The Devils' Day Off
by Minnie K
Summary: The guys take a much needed vacation, but trouble follows close behind. Anyone surprised?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer... I do not own any characters found in the series "Starsky and Hutch". This is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Twentieth Century Fox Studios, or any other holders of Starsky and Hutch copyrights. There has been no money involved nor has any exchanged hands. No reprints or reproductions with out the author's permission. This is just intended to be for fun.

**The Devil's Day Off  
**(A story following the episode "Partner")

by

MinnieK

_"Vacation is what you take when you can't take what you've been taking any longer."_

_The Lion_

_"A body on vacation tends to remain on vacation unless acted upon by an outside force."_

_Carol Reichel_

The body of Captain Harold C. Dobey lay heavy and unmoving, half in and half out of the cool shade of the nearest tree. He lay silently, dead to the world of all but the warmth on his legs, the shade across his torso and the relaxing sounds of children, birds and the rustling leaves. At this moment he was warm, lazy and gloriously comfortable in a beat-up old lounge chair placed at the front of his new truck and RV.

Dobey had initially been unwilling to sell his cabin at Pine Lake, but Edith had held firm. Cal would need college money soon and the land had been an investment. The new RV setup had been a splurge, but a much needed one.

The Happy Trails RV Park was situated in one of those beautiful little places that were one of California's greatest treasures. Normally, it would have been impossible to find a space this time of year, but he had been lucky enough to get reservations months in advance. Two weeks had already been spent as a family, but this week was just for him and Edith, the kids staying with family.

_ Two weeks away from the chief_. He smiled to himself. _No endless reports, vouchers, meetings and life or death decisions. And two weeks away from two certain detectives_ _who are_ _going to drive me crazy_, he sighed at the unbidden thought, eyes still closed to the golden afternoon. _Either that, or I'll be __**completely **__grey by the end of the year_.

He knew for a fact he had earned more grey hair just a scant two weeks ago when Starsky had driven the Torino through a construction shack. The 'Officer Down' call from the black-n-white at the scene had chilled him thoroughly. He had been initially relieved that it hadn't been any worse than it was, but then Hutch had faked amnesia. The man had been rude and insulting, making everyone miserable, but his own immediate concern had been for Starsky_._

_ What would I have done with him then? _He thought sourly. _They both would have been basket cases. Who else could work with Starsky as well as Hutch did? And if Hutch had been permanently or seriously hurt, who else could have handled Starsky's misery?_

Rank did have its privileges, so his authority over the two had been quickly and firmly re-established. While initially threatening the two with a shift in traffic control, he had reconsidered after realizing that Hutch wouldn't be up to long stints on his feet. Deciding to let them both cool off a bit and serve their recovery times separately, he had called in favors and had planted Hutch in the Supply Department and Starsky with Records. _Those two can't get into __**too**__ much grief where they are now. Serves them both right._

He settled back with a smile, ready to drift off again, when something in the background jolted him wide awake. _What was __**that**_? He opened an eye suspiciously, not quite comfortable with what he had heard. It had passed too quickly and had been drowned out by the sounds of nearby campers. _Edith? _he pondered. But after a minute with no new sound, He let himself drift back into a doze.

_ What? What __**was**__ that? _He shifted restlessly. There it was again. That sound. Whatever it was, it had been too quick for he to catch. _Cop's nerves_, he decided. A part of him knew that his cop's training would not let it go as long as it wasn't identified. _Edith would call it natural nosiness_. _Maybe she's right._

He rose lazily and walked to the back of the RV, and surveying the area as he went. While the park was sprawled over a vast distance and camping spots decently separated, it was nearly mid-day and the place was busy. Checkout time was noon and some people were still packing up while new arrivals were pulling into empty spaces. A quick glance showed him nothing out of the ordinary. Trying to shake the nagging feeling, he turned back towards his lounge chair when he heard it again.

"Whoa, Hutch! This isn't right either! Turn it **left**! Turn it **left**!"

_ No. It can't be! _He froze in surprise. _They can't be here! They're at Metro!_

Glancing furtively around the RV he saw that two lots down an old one-step-from-the-grave pickup was trying to back up an ancient tin-can-of-a-camper into an empty lot. He could see that the driver, face turned away and leaning out of the truck's window, was a Caucasian male with longish blond hair and tall, by the build of his torso. A second man, a Caucasian male with dark, curly hair didn't quite have the height of his comrade, but was more broadly built.

_ Think of the Devil and there they are! _He cringed in disbelief. _I __**know**__ I don't want to know_! Willing himself farther away from the scene, he found he couldn't move. _I don't __**need**__ to know. I'm on __**vacation**__. I have __**five**__ more days. This has got to be a bad dream. _But for some strange reason, he found himself drifting closer, unable to leave well enough alone.

"That **was** left, Starsky," came the irritated reply from the blond driver. "I told you it was! Now we're more cock-eyed than before." The driver settled back into the seat and slipped the truck into drive, pulling the camper forward for another try.

"No, no, no, no, no," Starsky answered, shaking his head in frustration.

Dobey noticed with surprise that Starsky's left arm was encased in an Ace bandage from fingers to elbow, all supported by a thin sling. He was dressed in an oversized T-shirt with a faded Van Halen motif, ragged cutoffs and ancient Adidas. He was obviously trying to direct Hutch into backing the tiny camper into the allotted space, and apparently not having much luck.

"**My** left. Not yours," Starsky explained with exaggerated patience.

"**Your** left?" Hutch snorted, shifting the truck back into reverse. "**I'm** the one that's driving. You're supposed to give me directions for the way **I'm** facing, not the way **you're** facing!" The truck jerked backward, pushing the camper back into the wooded space and stopped again. It was still crooked, and this time Hutch had barely missed hitting the picnic table.

With a muffled curse, he pulled the truck forward once again.

"Wassa matter?" Starsky answered grumpily, good hand on hip. "Can't remember which hand is which?" He strode to the front of the truck and sited the camper as if he were lining up a putt. "Just 'cause you gotta play with a semi doesn't mean you know how to back up a camper. You gotta go **left** I'm tellin' ya."

Dobey leaned against a nearby tree, not even trying to suppress his sigh. He now had a good view of the scene and was still un-noticed by his two wayward detectives.

"Again? **Whose** left?" Hutch asked, face twisted in disgust. "That semi had side mirrors. Plural. This truck **doesn't** anymore. I can't **see** without any mirrors. Whose fault is that?"

"**Your** left," Starsky replied defensively, he face coloring slightly. "And it wasn't **my** fault. How was **I** supposed to know the tunnel was too narrow? I was watchin' the tunnel **height**! Nobody said nothin' about tunnels bein' too narrow! 'Sides, **you** were driving."

"But who was navigating? Who decided we could make better time on the back roads?" Hutch's sharp questions were almost lost under the sound of the old truck's engine as he turned the wheel and tried once more to back the camper into the correct position. This time he was able to back it in at a straighter angle, completely missing the table.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dobey just knew that this was going to be **some** story. He didn't intend to miss it, not one word. _Why had this just turned into a vacation from a slapstick movie? _he wondered, a smile touching his face. He couldn't help but be fond of his two overgrown teenagers, but hated for it to show. _Can't have them thinking this is __**my**__ idea of a peaceful vacation_. But he knew Edith would be thrilled. She had semi-adopted the two years ago and worried over them almost as much as he did.

Both detectives conferred quietly for a moment and apparently decided that the camper was straight enough for now. Dobey groaned inwardly as he saw Hutch emerge from the driver's side of the truck. From mid-calf and down into an elderly shoe, Hutch's left foot and ankle were also wrapped in an Ace bandage. His foot was stuffed into an old tennis shoe, the tongue pulled out and the laces barely holding everything in. The look was completed by a neater pair of shorts and a Mozart t-shirt that was barely newer than Starsky's. Hutch limped over to his partner to inspect the placement of the camper. They started to unhitch it from the truck, agreeing that this was as good as it was going to get.

_ Maybe I should leave_, he thought to himself, eyeing the two injuries. _Maybe I should just disappear and leave well enough alone. I'm sure Captains Dixon and Montrose will be more than happy to fill me in on every little detail. There's no need to waste..._

But it was already too late. Hutch suddenly turned towards the truck and spotted him, freezing instantly, his face coloring a mild red all the way up into his hairline.

"Oh. Hi, Captain," Hutch called sheepishly. "Starsky, look who's here!" He shuffled minutely sideways, trying to hide his body behind the front of the truck, obviously taking a chance that his captain hadn't yet seen the injury.

Starsky, trotting up to the front of the truck at his partner's call, was just a second too late in trying to hide his own bandage. The embarrassed grin spreading across the man's face was a sure sign to Dobey that the story was going to be a **really** good one.

Crossing his arms, pulling his full height and bulk into play, he walked slowly across the road towards the two men. Pulling his 'Captain' mode around him like a cape, he inspected the two ragged detectives.

Hutch, still slightly red, leaned against the truck in a casual pose and tried not to pay any attention to Dobey's scrutiny of his leg, but Starsky gave up the fight immediately and meekly presented his left arm for further inspection.

"What in the world," he began quietly, building up volume as he went along, "happened to you two? I leave for three weeks and you two not only come up with more injuries than you **started** with, but you get caught playing hooky too?" He stood for a moment, hands on hips, watching the two detectives squirm. "I," he boomed, "happen to know, for a fact, that **neither one** of you had a vacation planned until the fall. I also know," he added, fully in his captain's role, "that I had you two tucked away where you could not only do some good, but would be off the street until **this** week!" He glared at them both accusingly, waiting.

Standing close, like two naughty children caught in the act, Starsky and Hutch exchanged nudges and glares, deciding in silence who was going to be spokesman for the duo. Dobey had seen this a hundred times before, but he had never been able to decipher it. It was still a toss up as to who would answer first..

"Well, now, Captain," Hutch began with a mild laugh. "It's really a very funny story..." He shrugged his shoulder casually and flashed him a charming smile, seemingly at a loss as to where to begin.

"Sure is, Cap'n," Starsky added quickly, throwing in a forced chuckle and a reassuring smile. "You're gonna laugh**. Really**."

Throwing his partner a glare, Hutch started again. "You see, Captain, it all sort of started last week when, uh, Starsky started this fire..."

"I did not!" Starsky burst in with an incredulous look at his friend. "It **wasn't** my fault! The typewriter went nuts!" He stopped suddenly at seeing Dobey's face. "Well, Cap'n... uh, see, you know how I am with those new electric typewriters. We just don't get along all that well. 'N there I was, typing along and all of a sudden the stupid thing jams and starts smokin'. So I threw my coffee on it to put it out..."

"...and didn't unplug it first," Hutch added under his breath, carefully studying the branch filled sky.

Starsky threw his partner a savage glare. "...and it sorta shorted or somethin'. It wasn't really a fire, Cap'n, just a small amount of smoke... I mean, the alarms didn't even go off." He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Well, I had to take it down to Supply to get another one. When **somebody** threw a fit." Starsky leaned back against the truck, pointedly ignoring his partner.

"Procedure, Starsky, procedure! You can't just bring the broken stuff to the Supply department without filling out the forms! There wasn't **any way** I was going to accept that thing back into Supply until you had filled out the correct forms."

"Well, **Mr. **Supply Sergeant, I didn't have a typewriter to fill out the forms **with**. And if you hadn't gotten so high and mighty on me, I might've paid more attention to what the typewriter was doin'!"

"Well, anybody **else** would have known better than to put a wet and slick typewriter on the edge of an uneven desk!" Hutch responded, eyes flashing.

"Well, how was **I **to know that you'd made it lopsided by taking the prop out from under the leg?" Starsky challenged. "And who had all those loose papers and books piled on top of it anyway?

For a moment Hutch looked stumped for a comeback. With a start, he suddenly seemed to realize that Dobey was still there, staring at them both. "Well, uh, Captain," he continued to Dobey, ignoring Starsky's last comment. "The typewriter was wet and the desk wasn't level and we were debating the issue when the typewriter slid off the desk and landed on..."

"...**glanced** off of..." Starsky muttered loudly.

"...**landed** on my foot," Hutch finished with a long-suffering look at his Captain. "A deep bruise and a sprain."

Dobey took a deep breath but said nothing, waiting for the inevitable.

"And then, with all the yelling and screaming at me," Starsky replied with a pout, pointedly not looking at Hutch. "I sorta got disoriented 'n slipped on some filing cards that **someone **had spread out all over the floor, 'n sorta fell into one of the shelving units, 'n it started to fall, 'n I tried to catch it..."

"...and got his arm pinned under it when it knocked down the other shelves," Hutch finished quietly after Starsky's tale drifted off. "And I **told** you when you came in not to step on those cards, because I was trying to reorganize the system." He turned beseechingly towards Dobey. "Captain, you would not believe the stupid filing system that the Supply department has set up for..."

Dobey held up one finger and Hutch suddenly fell silent.

"Why are you here and not recuperating at the station?" he asked quietly.

The detectives glanced furtively at each other, obviously trying to decide how to handle this. Hutch suddenly decided the clouds were, again, very interesting, leaving Starsky the onerous task.

"Well, Sir," Starsky began with a defeated shrug, "Cap'ns Dixon and Montrose decided that Supply and Records really didn't need any more help right at the moment, 'n Cap'n Calloway decided that Homicide was a little slow, so he sorta suggested..." He gave Dobey a wan smile. "...suggested that maybe it would be to our advantage to trade our vacations with someone and recuperate at home, since Hutch 'n I are sorta short of sick days right now."

_ And why does any of this not surprise me? _he thought with a sigh. "And the camper?"

"Oh, it belongs to a friend of Huggy's," Starsky replied happily. "Hutch 'n I were at The Pits, tryin' to decided where to go for vacation when Huggy let us know about this set-up. Huggy said his friend hadda put off his vacation for awhile so he rented it to us. We got it for the week , along with the reservations to this place." He gave Hutch a happy glance. "Huggy let us have it real cheap, cheaper than a hotel! Hutch can drift off into the wilderness anytime he wants and I can lead the civilized life." He smiled proudly and patted the side of the beat-up old truck.

"Yeah," Hutch snorted in derision, "like I'm going to be able to spend a week in that camper without ending up like a pretzel. And this is not exactly my ideal of wilderness. There's too many..."

"Hey," Starsky interrupted seriously, holding up a warning hand, "you're closer to it now than you would be if you'd try to hike somewhere on **that** foot. And I've always wanted to try going out in a camper." Starsky's voice softened, as if gently reminding. "'Sides, you promised. Remember?"

Dobey watched as Hutch sighed and studied the ground. The blond shrugged slightly, objections ending for the moment. "Yeah. Okay."

_ Still paying for our crimes, are we? _Dobey thought with a touch of compassion for the blond cop's sudden retreat. _This trip must have been Starsky's idea and part of Hutch's apology._

"Harold?"

Dobey turned towards his wife's voice and waved her over. _She might as well see this,_ he thought, _or she's not going to believe it. _"Over here, dear," he called. "We seem to have some company."

Edith looked as fresh and resplendent as always and Harold C. Dobey never tired of admiring her. Of all the decisions he had made over the years, courting and marrying Edith had definitely been the best. He watched in appreciation as Edith, glowing in red sun-dress and leaf dappled sunlight approached them.

"Why, Ken, Dave, whatever are you doing here?" she asked, in delighted surprise. Surprise turned into concern when she spied their injuries. "Oh, my! What happened? Are you two all right?"

"It's a long story, dear," he broke in, knowing she would have the truth from him over lunch. "These two seem to be our new neighbors for a few days. But they've got a full schedule, so we **won't** be seeing much of them," he stated, throwing the two a 'you'd better be busy' look.

"Oh, yeah," Starsky replied quickly, waving towards the elderly camper. "Hutch 'n me got a lotta plans. Why, you won't even know we're here." He grinned and Hutch nodding his head, smiling sweetly.

"Well, I'm sure you're right," she replied hesitantly, eyeing the object of Starsky's enthusiasm. "But I insist you both come to supper tonight. Say about six? Harold can grill his marinated steaks."

"Oh, sure," Hutch answered quickly, "six sounds fine. Can we, uh, bring anything?"

"No, I'm sure we have everything. Just don't forget." Edith gave both men and camper a bemused look and took her husband's arm. "Time for lunch, Harold. See you two tonight." And with that Edith Dobey steered her husband away from his men and their campsite.

"See you later!" Starsky called happily in parting.

It wasn't until they were out of earshot that Edith finally broached the subject. "Harold, what in the world happened to them? How did they get hurt again? Will they be safe in that thing? It looks like a, like a... silver dumpster of some sort."

"Dear," he said with a sigh, "it's a long story and I'll tell it to you over lunch. And as for it being safe for them…" He shook his head in disbelief. "For those two, I'm sure it's as safe as anything else they could be doing."

Dave Starsky stood smiling, hand on hip and arm in sling, watching as Captain Dobey and Edith walked down the thin gravel road towards their RV. "Whadda'ya think? It's gotta be a good sign, us bein' here the same time as Dobey." He glanced over and found that Hutch had already limped over to the truck. He only watched quietly as Hutch pulled the unhitched truck back into the road, then backed it up into the empty space next to their camper and the scarred, old picnic table.

Getting out and surveying the camp site, Hutch was still frowning slightly. Starsky knew that Hutch had been embarrassed by finding Dobey here. _But what the hell? _he thought. _It's not like he wasn't gonna know as soon as he got back to Metro. Now we have a whole week of not worrying about him findin' out._

Hutch gave a big sigh, resignation written on his face. "I **know** I promised I wouldn't bitch, Starsk, but that thing's got to be the ugliest camper I've ever seen. What if it rains? I don't think that thing is water-tight."

"Hutch," he replied happily, checking the side bubbles on the camper to see how level it was, "you **did** promise and I'm holdin' you to it. No bitching about my vacation. I told you we'd compromise and this is it. You get the lake to fish all you want and trees everywhere you turn. I get the rest of this place to hang out in. Who cares what the camper looks like? It's gotta be dryer in the rain than layin' in a soggy tent on muddy ground."

He started to fumble with the leveling poles for the camper when Hutch came and took over the job, then checked the levels one more time. He stood back and let his partner help, knowing that Hutch could get it done quicker than he could.

"Yeah, you just think you're going to score big this week because of that lady's group Huggy said was going to be up here," Hutch said, nodding his head in satisfaction at the readings. "Nature is the last thing on your mind, unless it's about chasing the female kind."

"So?" He threw the wooden stops in front of the camper's tires, kicking them into place. "So some kinda ladies group has a big convention around here. Doesn't mean that's why I wanted the trip. 'Sides," he continued with a smug smile, "**I** don't chase girls, they chase after me."

"Only with big sticks, to make you leave." Hutch snorted. "Well, open it up and let's get started. Maybe I can catch us a late lunch."

Starsky fumbled in his shorts pocket and smilingly came up with the key. "It may not be much, but it's **gotta** be better than a tent." He fumbled with the key and the lock for a moment. "And I think we did a great job of packin' everything in there."

AAAAA

Hutch stood silently, arms crossed, wishing his partner would just give up and let him open the door. Starsky could do a lot of things right handed, but the camper door was sticky and was hard to jiggle open. He sighed and eyed the camper once again. It looked like an old tin can, all tarnished silver with rust spots showing around most of the seams.

It was supposed to sleep two, one at each end, but he was not looking forward to sleeping like a sardine. At least in a tent and sleeping bag he could stretch out and get comfortable. While both camper beds were the same length, a full six inches too small for his comfort, one was just a bit wider and he had felt no guilt at demanding the wider bed_. If I'm going to be sleeping like a pretzel then I'm going to need that extra room,_ he thought sourly. _And I can't even stand up straight in the stupid thing either. Just as well I don't plan to be in it very much._

Add to that the fact that the whole contraption only contained two beds, a small sink and faucet, a tiny table (that you couldn't sit at) and a tiny, two-burner gas stove, he couldn't for the life of him see the attraction it held for Starsky. They were still going to have to use the park's communal facilities to shave, shower and such. And cooking on a gas range could never compare to an old-fashioned campfire. The camper was even too small to pack efficiently.

Starsky finally got the door unlocked and he was about to follow him in when Starsky froze, blocking the door and Hutch's view.

"Come on, Starsk. Move it," he complained, trying to hurry him along.

"Uh, Hutch," Starsky replied quickly, turning to close the door, "just a sec, okay?"

Hutch stood in surprise as the odor of a brewery assaulted him. _What the hell? _He had opened his mouth to respond when he caught the sound of rain coming from inside the camper. _Beer? Rain?_

The door opened again a half second later and Starsky stumbled out, forcing Hutch back, then quickly closing the door behind him.

"Hey, pal, good news," Starsky began with forced cheer, continuing to block the doorway. "It **is** water-tight." His fake grin turned a bit embarrassed as he shrugged. "After all, none of the liquid has come **out** so far."

Hutch, eyes wide from the first sound of dripping, felt his jaw drop. _I promised, I really promised. Now I'm in camping hell_, he thought with a sigh. _I guess I really deserve this... _He rubbed his face for a count of ten, trying to keep his tongue in check. "Okay, what happened? Or do I not want to know?"

Starsky's expression relaxed at the even tone of Hutch's voice. "Well, remember the six-packs of beer we brought? I guess they leaked or something."

"Beer?" Hutch was confused, rechecking the supply list over in his mind. "We didn't pack any beer." He stopped as he saw Starsky's face. "You packed beer? **Where** did you find the space to pack beer?" He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like any of this.

"Aw, come on," Starsky answered plaintively. "It's my **vacation**. So I wanted some beer. It's not a crime. I just pulled a sleeping bag out of the upper cabinet and stacked the six-packs in there. The sleeping bag wasn't gonna hurt anything if it was loose on the floor."

"The upper cabinet? Over one of the beds? Which bed?" he asked carefully, cringing in anticipation.

Starsky winced and replied in a near whisper. "The big one."

It was indeed a mess. Hutch had not trusted himself to speak until they had emptied the camper of everything wet and sticky. Which, unsurprisingly, was everything on Hutch's side of the camper. Apparently the beer hadn't blown up, but the heavy vibrations had caused the six-packs of beer to rub together, wearing holes in most of the cans. About three full six-packs had drained into Hutch's freshly laundered clothing and then soaked through the upper cabinet and preceded to 'rain' onto Hutch's mattress.


	2. Chapter 2

AAAAA

Starsky's forced cheerfulness at the fact that the mess was pretty much self-contained hadn't bolstered Hutch's spirits at all. Hutch had been **too** quiet and Starsky felt that **some** tirade would have been better than none at this point. He had helped Hutch throw his sticky-wet clothes and all of their clean-up towels into the back of the truck and watched him drive off to the park laundromat.

_ Geesh! _He shook his head at the left-over mess, scratching absently at the bandage covering his left arm. _We needed this like we needed another hole in our heads. First we get lost, then we lose the mirrors off the truck, now this. If we could only get a break __**sometime**__ this week... _He turned to contemplate the soggy mattress. _Now, how to get this thing cleaned up? It's gonna draw flies if we don't get all that beer out of it pretty soon._

He keenly felt the need to do this right so his partner would have a decent place to sleep. He had hoped that this trip would get them both back on an even keel after the last few weeks. Being in Records and tied to a desk was bad enough, but without Hutch around to talk to, and pick on, it had been lonely. He'd made a lot of trips to Supply everyday to check on his partner and make sure Hutch was getting around okay. They'd managed a lot of quiet lunches together and most of their evenings had been spent together, recovering from their original injuries. But things between them had felt strangely subdued.

He thought he knew the reason for the awkwardness still between them, wincing at the memory of the crash and Hutch's amnesia trick. That was one event that he had hoped to put out of both of their minds.

_ It's done with now, _the detective reminded himself sternly. _Time to get this vacation on the road. We're here to __**relax**__._

But what to do now? The soggy mattress wasn't going to get cleaned up by itself. He could take it to the lake and soak it, but he knew that was a bad idea, even if he could have done it one-handed. The camper had a small water tank, but it was just enough for the sink. It didn't hold enough water to rinse the whole mattress and they hadn't planned on using it anyway, so hadn't brought a hose. And the water hookup for the lot would be awkward to get the mattress under. _I could fill the bucket and flush it out that way, but I can't do that very well with one hand. Better ask Cap'n Dobey_, he decided with a grimace. _He'll have an idea_.

AAAAA

Hutch limped slowly with the third garbage bag full of sopping, sticky towels into the park's laundromat. Three of the many washers in the empty, shed-like room were currently full with his clothes. Hutch was glad to have the place to himself, not really wanting the company of his fellow campers. The third garbage bag filled two more washers and Hutch got them started. He counted through his change, realizing he didn't have enough for the dryers, but he did have a couple of bills for the change machine. Consistent with his luck so far, the machine ate his money and produced nothing.

_ Well, what now Einstein? Go back to camp? _He quickly discounted that idea. The odds of Starsky having any change at all were pretty low. But the main office was towards the front of this cluster of buildings and he might be able to talk them into some change. _The least they could do since their change machine is either empty or busted. And I want my dollar back._

Hutch stood at the wide doorway to the laundry building and surveyed the park. A few people and a variety of vehicles and tents were only partially hidden by the scattered trees and curving hillside. The carefully trimmed and drastically thinned forest seemed crowded and sad to him, almost worse than the city itself. He tried not to think about the solitude and beauty this area must once have had. _What could Starsky see in a place like this? _he wondered.

The office was still busy with campers waiting to sign in, with an older man attending them at the counter. Hutch stood to the side for a moment, waiting for a break in the sign-in line. He was about to interrupt for change when he froze in his tracks. A beautiful vision walked from an inner office to the counter and suddenly his problems didn't seem **that **bad.

Slim and long limbed, the young lady moved with the grace of an athlete. He felt transfixed, watching the woman smile with sincere pleasure at the next person in line. Striking brown eyes with flecks of gold off set her evenly tanned skin, all framed by her long, rich, almost-black hair that hung in a loose braid swinging down to her waist. He backed away from the counter, suddenly content to wait in line, eyes watching her every move.

It was the best fifteen minutes Hutch had had in weeks. As the line of those checking in and out dwindled, he was able to watch the graceful woman to his heart's content. Only once had she glanced at him, seeing him standing off by himself in a corner and she had flashed him the most beautiful smile he had seen in ages. She hadn't said a word, but had returned to her desk duty.

_ No wedding ring_, he noticed happily. _Her name tag says 'Calbert' and I know where she works. This week might be pretty interesting after all!_

Both counter people were efficient. After a pleasant fifteen minutes he found himself the last unhelped customer in the office.

"May I help you, Sir?" the older man asked, eyes smiling.

"Oh, don't worry, Sid," the young lady chimed in quickly. "I'll take care of this gentleman. You go ahead with your break."

Sid apparently wasn't fooled for a second as he gave Hutch a not-unkind once over and winked at the young woman. "Sure, hon. Let me know if you need any help." He disappeared down the hallway with a wave at them both.

"Good afternoon, Sir. How may I help you?" She turned quickly towards Hutch, flashing him a smile that almost drove all thought from his mind.

"Uh... Well..." he stammered, struggling to remember why he was there. He gathered up his most charming smile and leaned one elbow on the counter. "I was doing some laundry and ran out of change. Your change machine doesn't work and I was wondering if I could get some change here."

"Oh, I'm sorry! How much do you need?" Her eyes smiled at him through the concerned look on her face.

"Oh, just a couple of dollars worth." He smiled back. "If it's no trouble." He quickly pulled out his wallet, almost dropping it in the process. _Easy Hutch, first impressions! _It was all he could do to take his eyes off the lady to find the correct bills.

"My pleasure." She opened a cash drawer and they exchanged money, fingers touching lightly. "I'm really am sorry, Mr... Um..." She looked at him curiously, eyes sparkling.

"Hutchinson," he answered quickly. "Ken Hutchinson. I just got here today and I'm staying for the week."

"Oh, lucky you!" she replied with a grin. "And my name's Gina, by the way. What brings you here, vacation or recuperation?"

"Recup...?"

"From your injury," she answered with concern. "I noticed your ankle and foot was bandaged."

"Oh, that," he replied quickly, feeling foolish. He hadn't felt a twinge from his foot since he'd walked in and had actually forgotten it. "Yeah, just a slight injury at..."

"Gina!" A voice boomed from the back rooms. "You have a phone call. It's Robert." Sid reappeared and nodded to Hutch and the young woman.

"Sorry, have to go." She smiled sweetly at him. "Maybe you can drop by again some time," she added as she turned towards the back offices.

"Have you been helped, Sir?" Sid asked.

"Yes, sir." Hutch smiled back. _Gina Calbert, huh? _"I sure have."

_Well, depending on who Robert is, of course._

_AAAAA_

Starsky was on his way back from the Dobey's RV when he spotted the truck backing into their space. _Hutch is back early. _He started to check his watch, thrown for a minute until he remembered it was on the other wrist. _Forty-five minutes? He made good time with the laundry. _He had actually hoped Hutch would be gone for awhile so he could set up the sleeping bags in the empty bed frame as a peace offering.

Dobey hadn't said a word about the accident, for which Starsky was grateful. The Captain came to inspect the damage and then had helped him lug the thin mattress down to his RV. The best they had been able to do was to spray the mattress with some liquid detergent and then hose it down thoroughly, hoping the detergent and water would wash away the beer. Edith had then sent Dobey up to the small park grocery for more detergent in case it would need a second washing, but he had hopes that one rinsing would be enough.

He slowed as he neared the truck. Hutch was still in the driver's seat, motor turned off, head leaned against the back window and eyes closed. He had made no move since switching the engine off, arms crossed tightly across his middle his face was flushed a slight red.

_ Uh Oh_, he thought. _**Not**__ good. _He slowly walked around the front of the truck and up to the driver's side window, peering warily at his friend.

"So," he said quietly, leaning into the window, "how'd the laundry trip go?" _Do I really want to know?_

Hutch sighed tightly, eyes held closed. "Oh, good news. Bad news. You know. That kind of thing."

"Oh?" He eyed his partner suspiciously. Hutch's flush and body language suggested extreme anger, so he prepared himself. "Which do I want to know about first?"

"Wellllll..." Hutch drawled, biting his lip a little and opening one eye to peer at his partner. "The **good** news is that I met a gorgeous woman while I was there."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked with caution. Hutch sounded stressed, which was never good news. "Anybody I should meet?"

"Only when she's with me, pal." Hutch replied, closing the eye but still chewing the lip, a jaw muscle quivering slightly as was his voice. "You find your own company this trip."

"Hey," Starsky replied, smiling a little challenge. "I get laundry duty too, you know. And I don't see anybody 'with' you yet. Now, what's with the bad news?" He watched his partner closely, anxious as to how the next few minutes would go.

Hutch sighed again but it caught in his throat and was almost a sob. He trembled tightly, his face still flushed and his eyes suspiciously bright.

_ He's gonna cry_, Starsky thought, feeling his stomach tighten. _Oh, shit! He's coming unglued!_

"Laundry's done." Hutch tried to sound casual but was losing whatever battle he was fighting with himself. He leaned forward on the steering wheel and looked away, shaking even more.

"Yeah?" He said quietly, not sure what to say or do next_. What the hell happened? What do I do? Gotta get him someplace private and fast! _He reached in and patted his friend on the back. "Ah... Hutch? Let's take it back in the trailer and talk about it." His quick glance around the cab showed no laundry, nor could he see any in the bed of the truck. Hutch's shoulders were starting to shake even harder now. "Where is it?"

"I'm w-w..." Hutch started, but was caught by a sudden snicker and choked, unable to continue as his face split into a wide grin and he began to chuckle deeply, head resting on the steering wheel. An instant later he was guffawing loudly, tears running down his face.

_ He's laughing! _Starsky realized with shock and concern, feeling as if he'd been slapped upside the head and spun 180 degrees. _What the hell...? _"Hutch? Hutch? What are you talking about? Where** is** the laundry?"

Hutch wiped at his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. He almost lost control again when a giggle broke loose, but managed to compose himself. "W-wearing it. S-s-stole the rest." He gasped with a suppressed snicker, waving a hand helplessly. "All of it. Clothes, underwear, socks... all wet... all g-gone." He hiccupped and lost control again, hugging his middle and laughing deeply.

Starsky felt himself staring at his partner in shock. _He __**is**__ unglued_! But then he felt it, the quiver and bubble of a chuckle making its way up from his gut. He tried to stop it, but a snicker escaped him, the sound of Hutch's laughter like a contagious disease.

_Don't get started! Don't get started! _he silently chanted. _Assert your training, get the facts... _It was all he could do to just stand there and fight the rising hysteria. He composed his face and took a deep breath.

Hutch took another gasp and several near-giggles escaped him. "I give up," he squeaked. Hutch put both hands to cover his eyes and shrugged shakily. "It's the _Twilight Z-z-zone_! I'm d-d-doomed!" and suddenly he let go, falling to lie across the truck's seat, guffawing loudly and deeply.

Then, to his heartfelt glee, Starsky lost it. Chortling deeply, he could feel his himself weaken, gasping for breath and spluttering. He was quickly hanging off of the side of the truck in helplessness, his laughter feeding off of Hutch's. And just when he seemed to manage another breath, Hutch would set him off again, with a squeak or a snort.

Several minutes passed before both men dissolved into weak, snickering, wet hiccups, desperately trying not to look at each other. _Oh man... Oh man... _Starsky mused. _People are gonna think we're nuts. _He felt wrung out and weak-kneed, but it was as if a giant weight was suddenly gone. _I feel like it's been years since we've done that. Too long in coming... _He wiped at his streaming eyes and ventured a glance at his partner. Hutch was wiping at his own wet face, lying limp and relaxed.

"S-so, super cop," he began, wiping ineffectively at his bleary eyes and sniffling. "What now? Hide you in shame for the duration? Become the camp streaker? Find you a fig leaf? Stay downwind? Borrow my things?"

"Aaahhhh..." Hutch responded, struggling to use weak stomach muscles to sit up again. He, too, was trying to clear tear-reddened eyes and sniffling. "Better the former than the latter, my dear. I am **not** sharing your ratty camping clothes. We go back to that tourist trap we passed. I saw a thrift store there. Cheap and ready to wear."

"'Kay. Suits me." Starsky jogged quickly back to the camper to lock it up, mindful of the clothing thieves in the area. He weakly suppressed another chuckle while grabbing something before trotting back to the truck and getting in. He handed Hutch the roll of toilet paper, knowing they were going to need it to get themselves cleaned up. "You know, somebody probably just got mad at you hoggin' the machines or something. We **could** find all your clothes in a garbage can or a pile somewhere. Wanna look around?"

"Oh yeah, like I really want to wear a bunch of clothes that somebody would just walk away with." Hutch proceeded to clean himself up. "You don't know **what** those people did or **where** those clothes have been by now."

"An' a thrift store is any better?" Starsky asked in amazement. "You don't know those people either!"

"That's different," Hutch replied quickly, although he looked a little unsure.

"Oh!" Starsky said sarcastically, still smiling. "I see! Pay a coupl'a bucks for someone's used jeans and you're safe from cooties!" He broke into snickers again, gaining a weak, but evil, look from Hutch as he started the truck.

AAAAA

Harold Dobey enjoyed the leisurely stroll back to the RV with the small bag of groceries. He had endeavored to walk as much as he could this vacation, mindful of his ever-gaining waistline. _It's not like I've got the time to exercise much_, he reflected guiltily. _Twelve to eighteen hour days, emergency calls in the middle of the night... I'm always stuck in that office, worrying about every plan and move my men make. There's nothing to do to keep myself going but drink coffee and eat. If I had more time off..._He sighed to himself, knowing how likely that was. _At least this __**is**__ a start._

He wandered down the well used trail, consciously enjoying the afternoon's sights and sounds. True, this place wasn't as remote as his cabin had been, but then again he wasn't responsible for the whole park, just his one little spot of it. And so far his neighbors had been friendly and smiling, while leaving him and Edith in much needed peace. Which brought his mind back to certain other neighbors of his...

_ Now_, he mused with slight amusement, _how do two grown men get a mattress soaked with beer in the first hour of their arrival? Maybe they're having some kind of problem with the trailer. Maybe I should have asked..._

He broke off his thoughts as he glanced down the footpath to see an ancient truck with two familiar men in the front. Dark and fair, both were talking and sharing a roll of toilet paper, wiping reddened eyes and blowing noses.

Shaking himself, realizing he was staring with his mouth open, he purposefully looked away and proceeded on his trek.

_ ...and maybe I'll be glad I didn't_.

AAAAA

It was a wonderful, sunny spring day and both Starsky and Hutch relaxed to enjoy the trip into town. Neither one spoke as they made their way down to the main highway and turned towards Peakness, the closest town on the highway. The fresh spring air in their faces and the scenic woods lining the side of the highway made up for the heavy flow of traffic in and around the mountains.

Hutch enjoyed the driving, he felt at home in the old truck. He'd driven something like it years ago, although that one didn't have an automatic transmission_. Good thing this one does, or we'd never have been able to make this trip_, he thought. He was able to drive with a bruised left foot, but Starsky wouldn't have been able to handle the steering with his arm bruised and sprained.

As if hearing Hutch's thoughts, Starsky settled back and started to unwind his arm bandage. Hutch winced at the first sight of Starsky's bruises, settling his attention back on the road.

_ What a pair of fools we are. We were damn lucky not to have broken anything. _He could feel the slight flush coming on from his memory of the accident at the station. At least Dobey knew about it now and hopefully by the time they got back to the station it would be old news. It wasn't like he hadn't felt like fifty kinds of a fool anyway, not after that amnesia stunt. Starsky and the Captain wouldn't have said anything at the station about his nasty trick, but he felt like everyone knew anyway.

_ I still can't believe I did that. Why the hell does he put up with me? _He had wondered the same thing each day for weeks now, amazed that his apologies to his friends had been accepted. But he was not quite convinced he was actually forgiven, or that he deserved to be.

His foot ached dully and he wished he could put it up somewhere. But there was no use putting this trip off, as this was also his fault. _Well, maybe meeting Miss Calbert will be worth it... _He smiled to himself. "Just a couple of minutes, Starsk," he warned. "We're almost there."

AAAAA

Starsky took note as Hutch pulled into Peakness. He had noticed the thrift store earlier, along with Hutch. As usual, both had scoped out the nearest town. _Always a cop_, he realized with a slight smile. _Or like the Boy Scouts say, 'Be Prepared'._

Peakness was a newer town just off the highway, outfitted for the holiday traveler. There were fast food places, gas stations and hotels lining the highway exit, but the setting was pleasant. The place was spread out and nestled in the trees, so you still felt like you were out in the woods somewhere, only safe and comfortable. Hutch had called it 'campy' and 'commercial' but he enjoyed these places. The woods were okay, if he didn't have to stay very long, but he had always enjoyed being around people and being in crowds. This place had just enough of everything to keep both of them happy for awhile.

Hutch had pulled around to the back of the town and parked in front of a small woodlands mall. "The thrift store is around the corner, Starsk." Hutch got out and stretched. "I'll need to go to the discount store for underwear and stuff. Where are you headed?"

Starsky slammed the truck door shut and pondered his choices. Watching Hutch pick through clothing wasn't among them. "I guess I'm going to mosey on down to the craft store for awhile," he answered. "See ya in an hour or so. Maybe I'll see something I can send Ma."

"Good luck, pal," Hutch snorted. "Maybe you can buy her an authentic Indian purse made from the finest plastic in China. Or maybe one of those plastic owls covered in sea shells. Everyone needs one of those."

"Be nice," Starsky warned after a stretch of his own, feeling the warmth of the sun. "Or I won't get you **your** Christmas present."

"Oh, promise me!" Hutch yell back, "Please!"

Starsky watched as his friend hobbled along, noticing that the limp was less pronounced. _Another of my stupid mistakes on the mend, _he sighed.He did enjoy the walk over to the craft store, watching the flow of crowds in and around the small mall. There were many people out and about today and the stores were full but not crowded. There were many shops catering to the finer, more expensive art of the area which he fully planned to peruse, but he wanted to browse the souvenir shop first. He hadn't been kidding about Hutch's Christmas present and was sorely tempted to get **something** with seashells for him.

Grannie's Gifts Galore was large, commercial and fairly busy. Most of the crafts did have foreign tags on them, but Starsky enjoyed looking and getting ideas. He enjoyed working with his hands and a good hobby always helped him relax. He was thinking of doing some woodworking someday and had always wondered about working with leather.

It had dawned on him that Hutch might like a pair of moccasins. It was while he was checking prices that he happened to look up and saw his own personal angel enter the store. She was tall and shapely, with thick almost-black hair hanging in a braid almost waist long and had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. She wore the blue shirt and tan shorts, that was the uniform of the Happy Trails office staff. _If she'd been in __**that**__ office it'd have taken me hours to check in!_

He watched her walk over to the store counter, standing off to the side as if she had come to talk to the young male clerk. He walked over to her casually, carrying the moccasins with him.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, looking into her striking brown eyes. "Would you know what sizes these come in?" He used his sexiest smile. _No ring_, he thought happily. _And her name tag says 'Calbert'_. _I sure hope her first name is 'Miss'._

"I'm sorry," she answered kindly, smiling good naturedly at him. "I don't work here."

"Oh, excuse me," he apologized. "I didn't mean to bother you, but haven't I seen you somewhere before?" Starsky almost winced himself at the old line, but had been too late to change it. "I - I mean your outfit. It's a uniform I've seen around."

"Probably at the Happy Trails RV park," she answered with a chuckle at the cliché. "That's where I work, on staff. Are you staying there?"

"Yeah," he answered happily. "I just got in today. I'll be there for a week."

"What brings you here, vacation or recuperation?"

"Recup...?"

"From your injury," she answered with concern. "I noticed your arm was injured."

Starsky smiled with embarrassment. He'd forgotten about it and it **was** kinda obvious. "Oh, that, well..." he trailed off, shrugging as if it was nothing. "It's a work related injury. Long story. Maybe sometime..."

"May I help you, sir?" the young male clerk turned to Starsky.

"Uh, no, I'm still shopping," Starsky replied quickly, hoping to minimize the interruption.

"Oh, well, I've got a break coming then, Sis," the young clerk said to Starsky's object of interest. "I can get Martha to take over now."

"Okay, Robert," she replied with a smile for the younger man. She turned back towards Starsky. "I'm sorry, I've got to go now, Mr... ?"

"Starsky. Dave Starsky. Lot 1532. Nice to meet you Miss Calbert." He made a show of reading her name tag, as if he hadn't done so before.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Starsky." She smiled in reply, following her brother. "See you around? I'm usually at the office. Stop by sometime."

"You bet!" He replied enthusiastically. He waved with the moccasins. "See you at camp!"

_ Wait 'till Hutch sees her_, the detective thought happily, walking the moccasins back to the leather section. _He just __**thinks**__ he's cornered the market on beautiful women_. _This is going to be a __**wonderful**__ vacation, once we get it started_.

AAAAA

Hutch sat in the sun warmed truck and glanced at his watch. _Almost 3:00_ p.m. he noticed. Not that he really cared, but Starsky was due back any time now. Hutch had taken more than an hour to pick through the thrift store for camping clothes then finding underwear at the discount store. He had expected to find Starsky waiting for him impatiently, but his partner was still out and about. It felt good to just sit here in the passenger seat and prop his left leg up on the warm bench seat, letting the sun warm his foot through the bandage. He'd gotten enough clothing to get by, but he'd still have to wash them when he got back. This time he wasn't going to take his eyes off of those machines.

"Hey, buddy," a familiar voice boomed in his ear, jolting him from a light doze.

"Hey yourself," Hutch answered his smiling partner through the passenger window. "Find any precious works of art?"

"Could be. Am I driving?"

"No," he answered quickly, trying to get his comfortable body to move back to the driver's side of the truck. "So what have you been up to?"

Starsky opened the passenger door and tossed a bag between them. "I met a lovely lady and plan to meet her again." He settled in and smiled. "Then I found this really neat park out behind the craft store. Lots of places for kids and a petting zoo, so I watched for awhile. Then I got us some hot-dogs." He indicated the bag between them. "I ate mine, figured it was time for a snack and fed the squirrels. Didn't realize I was late. Yours is still in there."

Hutch opened the bag and saw one plain hot-dog. In fact, it was so plain that there wasn't any bread around it.

"What's this? he asked, incredulous.

"It's your hot-dog."

"Where's the bun?"

"That's what I fed to the squirrel," Starsky answered, as if it should be obvious.

"Why didn't you just feed him the whole thing and be done with it?"

"Hutch! Are you kidding?" Starsky threw him an incredulous look. "I wouldn't feed **that** thing to a dog. That poor squirrel could keel over from all the salt and preservatives in it. I'm **not** heartless, Hutch." Starsky was smiling slightly and turned to hide it by looking out the passenger window.

"Oh, gee, I love you too, partner," Hutch replied sarcastically, digging in the bag for the naked, now cold hot-dog. _What the hell_, he thought, taking a bite. _He'll eat it if I don't and I'm not going to let him have it __**now**__._

_AAAAA_

The trip back was taken in silence, neither feeling the need to talk. It was a comfortable silence, one that they had been missing in the last few weeks.

Starsky thought about the last month, watching his partner's profile. Awkward. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt awkward with Hutch. They had spent the first days of recovery trying to ignore what had happened. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to talk about the accident and apparently, neither had Hutch. Then, when the stupid accidents had happened at the station, Starsky knew they had to get out away.

_ We're used to having all the time in the world together,_ he reflected. _Dobey took that away by separating us. Then when we __**were**__ together, we were afraid to spoil it. _He had jumped at the chance to get himself out of the apartment and Hutch out of the city. There was no way he could have passed up on Huggy's offer, no matter how decrepit the vehicle. But what he hadn't counted on was the flash of doubt that Hutch would want to vacation with him after all.

_ I know you felt the same way, pal_, Starsky thought sadly. _I could tell by the look on your face that you thought I was planning a solo trip. You looked so surprised that I meant this for both of us._

Hutch had then put up a fuss, saying how crazy it was for them to travel with both of them injured. Starsky had had to put his foot down. _'__**Don't**__ screw with this, Hutch. It's __**vacation**__ time dammit and I'm not staying home to rot. I don't know about you, but I didn't exactly save up for a vacation this soon. This'll get us out and about and we can both afford it. __**Promise**__ me we'll make the best of whatever happens and you won't bitch about going, or so help me I'll go by myself!'_

Ten seconds. It had taken Hutch a full ten seconds to promise. _Five seconds longer than it should have,_ Starsky mused. _We're gonna get that fixed __**this**__ week. This tap-dancing around each other sucks. _He was starting to wonder if they'd get the chance, with the bad luck they'd started out with. _It's like the Devil's got a day off and he's got nothing better to do than pick on us._

Hutch pulled into the entrance to the RV park. "I'll drop you back off at the camp site and I'll go get this stuff washed. We've got to be ready to go over to the Dobey's in a few hours. By the way, what did you do about the mattress?"

"Took it to Dobey," Starsky replied. "And we rinsed it out. Might be dry by tonight."

Hutch groaned in reply. "What did he say?"

"Nothing, actually," Starsky said with an amused smile. "I told him I had a problem. He came back to see it and found a mattress full of beer." He chuckled. "I think he was afraid to ask."

Hutch gave a small laugh. "Well, we **are** on vacation? What **can** he say?"

"Go home!" they both answered with united snickers, threatening to bring back another laugh attack.

It was just a few minutes later when they pulled up to their space that they noticed something was missing.

Hutch pulled into the lot and turned the engine off, staring at their small space of woodland. "Do you **not **see what I **don't** see?" he asked casually.

"I can't believe it!" Starsky exploded. "Someone nabbed our picnic table! What would someone want with our picnic table? Geesh! Ain't nothin' sacred anymore?"

Just where the beat-up red table had sat was nothing but a small leafless square of rocky dirt. Both detectives got out and wondered over to the spot, automatically inspecting the area.

"Look, Starsk," Hutch said, pointing to the surrounding ground. "There are no drag marks. Took a couple of people to haul it away." He shook his head unbelievingly. "You just can't leave anything out in the open anymore."

"Well, I'm gonna report this right now," Starsky fumed. "This place is just fulla thieves and I'm not gonna get pegged with payin' for a table I never even got to use."

"Get in," Hutch replied with a sigh. "You're going my way."

The trip to the office was over quickly and Starsky left Hutch at the laundromat.

_ I can't believe this! I just can't believe this! _Starsky ranted to himself as he strode purposefully towards the office. _This is really gettin' sick... _He stopped and took a deep breath, then headed in to report the theft.


	3. Chapter 3

AAAAA

Hutch leaned against the nearest folding table, watching one certain machine, waiting for the spin cycle to start. This time the laundromat was busy, but he had been able to snag a machine after only a few minutes wait. Several families were doing their laundry and he nodded nicely to them but kept to himself. He decided that one load for today would be enough to get him through, so he'd picked through his new clothes to decide on a couple of changes. He had cleared his mind and the only concern he had had in the last fifteen minutes was to keep his injured foot out of the way of the running and screaming children. _Wish I could put it up for awhile_, he sighed.

"Back for a second try?"

He started, realizing he was being addressed. Turning, he felt a smile break across his face as he recognized the speaker. "Ah...hi! Yes, I guess I am. This isn't a professional call I hope?"

The young woman he'd talk to at the office just hours ago laughed. "Well, yes, you could say that," she answered, eyes smiling. "I recognized your truck outside and thought I'd stop by and apologize for what happened to you today." She surveyed the busy room and shrugged embarrassedly. "Sometimes we have a bit a petty theft here, but really, nothing like a full load of laundry. Not a good way to start a vacation, is it?"

"Well, no, it's not the way I usually like to start my time off," he replied, happily noticing that the lady seemed inclined to talk. "But the company is getting better, Miss... Calbert?"

"Gina. Gina Calbert. I'm sorry we didn't get introduced very well in the office before I had to leave... Uh, Ken?"

"Right! It's Ken, or Hutch," He added quickly. "I go by either name. And now is a good a time as any to get acquainted."

He watched, entranced, as she laughed and tossed the braid behind her back, shaking her head in the negative. "Sorry, but I really have to get back to the office, Sid needs the help and I've been gone long enough. But I was wondering if you had anything planned for tonight? There's a late bonfire planned at Captor's Cove. It's along the lake trail about mile north. It's sort of a private convention, but you're welcome..." she broke of shyly, giving him a charming smile, "...as long as you're with me."

"Well, can't beat that!" he replied quickly, then grimaced as memory struck. "Ah, I've already got a dinner date with some friends. How 'late' is a 'late' bonfire?"

"Oh, they don't light the fire until 10 p.m. Is that too early for you?"

"No, no that should be fine." Hutch replied with relief. "Dinner shouldn't be too late anyway. Should I pick you up?"

"No, I can come walk by your lot if you don't mind. " She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I actually live here on the camp ground. My family owns it and we have a house just up the trail from here. I have my own cabin for the summers when I come back to help out. You're in lot number 1532, right?"

"Yeah, sure am. Do I need to bring anything?"

"No, nothing, just yourself and warm clothing. Snacks and beverages provided. But I warn you, we're a strange lot and it's sort of a pre-convention get together." Gina winked at him mischievously. "We tend to get into some really weird things."

"Oh, well," Hutch said, "I hope it's not anything too weird. Actually, I'm a cop and my partner is here with me. I'd hate to spoil a convention, but they'll pull my union card if I slack off." He shrugged helplessly, not wanting to get into a convention he'd have to leave or end up busting.

Gina laughed and patted Hutch's shoulder. "Oh, I think you can handle it. You seem to be a big boy. See you at 10." And with that she turned to weave her way through all the washing and folding, leaving a beaming Hutch in her wake.

_ Starsky's going to go nuts_, he decided, smiling to himself. He was surprised to see the familiar form making its way towards him. _He must have passed right by her!_

"Hey, Starsk, did you see her?"

"Huh?" Starsky answered distractedly, glancing quickly around the mill of people. "Who?"

"My date for tonight," he replied, throwing what must be a Cheshire grin at his partner. "Remember that lovely lady I told you about? Well, she's tracked me down and I've got a convention invitation for tonight."

"Oh, yeah?" Starsky look impressed. "Saw a lot of ladies, pal. Which one was yours? And does that mean the Dobey's and I are gonna get stiffed for dinner?"

"Nope. It's a late convention. I doubt even Edith could stand us for too long. No use overstaying our welcome." His grin turned smug. "And I guess you'll just have to wait and see her when she picks me up."

"Gee, I can't wait. I'm all goosebumps." Starsky rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'll get lucky myself. There is a certain lady I've plans on tracking down. You ready?"

"Nope, dryer." Hutch nodded towards the washer in its final spin. "What's the news."

"You know that guy, Sid, in the office?" Starsky nodded his head in that direction. "He's a real nice guy, but busy. Real sorry about your laundry and the picnic table. They're getting a new one on a truck and hauling it over to our space now. We won't be held for the cost or nothin'. But I gotta be there when they unload it. Gotta sign for it. I'll walk back."

"Sure. Have a ball."

Starsky just grunted and made his way through the mill of people.

_ Starsky is gonna go nuts when he see __**my**__ girl_, Hutch thought evilly. _Just wait pal..._

AAAAA

Starsky walked swiftly down the walking trail, hoping it was faster than the graveled roadway. He wanted to be there when the truck with the table arrived, so he could have some conversation time with the drivers. As park employees they should know Miss Calbert and just where she worked. He'd been disappointed that Sid obviously hadn't had time to talk since he really wanted to find the lady. She hadn't been anywhere in the office that he could see.

_ And Hutch's lady just walks right up to him_, he sighed. _Well, he's had the worst share of the luck, so I guess he's due one up on me. But I'm gonna find her, I didn't dig through all that cereal for my Keystone Kop's Detectives Badge for nothin'!_

He arrived in time to reach the lot and open the trailer to air it. Unfortunately, the trailer still smelled slightly of a brewery so he'd have to leave the door open for awhile. At least he didn't have to invite anyone in. It was just then that he heard a truck coming down the road.

At the sight of the approaching truck he felt a grin take over his face. Seated at the driver's seat with two bulky guys was his dream lady.

"Well, hello!" Starsky greeted cheerfully as she pulled up. "I was hoping to track you down sometime today." He nodded politely to the two gentlemen.

"Hello yourself, Mr. Starsky." The lady smiled back. She turned towards her companions. "This is it guys, unload it under the tree."

"Dave," Starsky said, leaning on the driver's door. "It's Dave. And thanks for the table. What a coincidence to see you again."

"Tina," The brunette replied happily, offering her hand. "Tina Calbert. And it wasn't just coincidence. I was just in the office and saw the work order for 1532," she admitted a little shyly. "I knew someone would have to sign for the table, so I tagged along. I hoped you'd be here."

"Well, you found me. Now you get to take me home and keep me." Starsky's grin grew at her delighted laugh.

"Well, I'm not sure about **that**. But I was wondering if you were free tonight. There's a group I'm a part off that's meeting here this week. We're having a private get-together later tonight, but it's real informal. There's going to be snacks, drinks, a bonfire and probably some bad singing. Interested?"

"Sounds great!" Starsky answered swiftly. "But I'm already tied up for dinner. Could we join the party that late?"

"Sure," she replied. "It doesn't start until 10 p.m. Is that okay?"

"Fine. Just fine." Starsky felt relieved. "But I may be short a truck for the evening. I think my partner's got first dibs on it."

Tina shrugged. "No problem. It's within walking distance from here. I'm coming by this way, so I can just meet you here, if that's no problem."

"Well, then, it's a date." Starsky started slightly when one of the men shoved him a clipboard, not even realizing the table had been unloaded. He signed off quickly. "Here you go. See you then, Tina."

"Bye, Dave. Dress warm." With a friendly wave she and her companions pulled away.

_ Hutch is gonna go nuts when he see __**my**__ girl_, Starsky thought evilly. _Just wait pal..._

_AAAAA_

Hutch felt the day catching up with him as he steered the truck down towards their camp site. They had both gotten up before the sun to get here, lousy directions and all, and they hadn't actually had a minute to just kick back and relax.

_ Nothing like running yourself ragged for relaxation_, Hutch mused. Here he was, less than an hour away from their dinner date with the Dobeys, his foot ached, and he felt like he needed a nap. But at least his luck was getting better. _Maybe there won't be time for the fishing to get old, if I never get around to it, _he thought with a smile, reflecting on his late night appointment_._

As he pulled up he eyed the new picnic table, which glowed a bright and stunning red. He already decided he did not care for it. It looked too new. He liked the old, pitted, dirty one better.

He was tiredly limping towards the trailer with his bag when Starsky stuck his head out of the door, white towel draped over his shoulder.

"Oh, good," Starsky said. "You're back. Hot water's ready if you are."

"Yeah? Sounds great!" He sighed in appreciation, looking forward to this small routine.

Since the first accident, they'd both taken time out at the end of the evening to soak their various bruises in hot water. It wasn't so much the soaking, as it was the time they had made just to sit down together quietly. Not that they'd talked about anything serious so far, but it was the time that counted.

He cautiously entered the small trailer, noticing that his partner was filling a plastic tub with hot and cold water. He was glad that the beer smell was only slightly noticeable and sat down on the bed with the mattress. "We only packed one tub didn't we. Sorry about that." He sighed, feeling more tired than he realized. "Guess I forgot."

"No problem," Starsky replied with a smile. "You can have the tub. I'm just gonna use the sink to soak a towel and drape my arm. He held up his left hand and worked his fingers in and out of a fist. "I'm going to leave off the bandage tonight and just go with the sling anyway."

"Don't use it any more than you have to," Hutch warned, leaning past his partner to grab the tub full of hot water and setting it on the floor. "You'll tie yourself up in a knot if you do."

"Yes, Mother," Starsky replied with a patient voice. "Will you sit down and get that bandage off?"

Hutch worked on getting the bandage off of his left foot. Walking and driving made it swell and the bruises were still mostly deep black and purple, but with a yellow and green edge. It still looked nasty, but he didn't think the bandage was helping any. _I might as well leave mine off too,_ he decided. _At least then I could get my shoe on right._

Hutch placed his foot in the not-quite-too-hot water and closed his eyes in a heartfelt sigh. _Just a little bit of heaven... _But he only let the relief last a moment, opening his eyes quickly to watch his friend unwrap his arm.

Starsky's arm was just bruised just as deep, only in two places instead of Hutch's larger one. It had been a miracle that he hadn't broken his wrist, but the muscles of his arm made moving his fingers hurt. He still felt a pang on seeing the injury. The bruising was even worse for Starsky, as his left was his best hand and it left him awkward and frustrated.

He watched as Starsky dipped the towel into the hot water he had poured into the sink, knowing that there wasn't any way his friend could wring it out.

"Let me," He interrupted. "I've got an idea. You sit down for a moment and let me get us set."

"Why? I've got it. I can..."

"Sit!"

Starsky sat down suddenly, eyebrows rising to meet hairline in surprise. Hutch tossed him another towel and had him place his arm on it. Then he carefully draped the hot, wet towel over his friend's forearm. Starsky closed his eyes and sighed.

"Now turn to your right and scoot forward."

The detective did as he was told, curling his right leg up on the mattress and leaving his left foot on the floor. Hutch maneuvered in behind him, replacing his foot in the tub of hot water. He reached up and started massaging Starsky's left shoulder.

He could feel his friend relax into the movement. Knowing just where Starsky would be knotted up, he went right for the sore and stiff muscles around his bullet scar. Starsky moaned lowly and leaned forward until his forehead rested on the camper wall he was facing, allowing Hutch full access to his back.

Hutch only wished that he had realized years ago how rough his left-handed friend had it in a right-handed world. Starsky did a lot of things right-handed, and he did them better than Hutch could have with **his** weaker hand. But Starsky was a lefty and lefty's had a hard time in the world. It had taken a few years, but he had seen the bits and pieces of frustration this had caused him. There were the doors that didn't swing the right way, scissors, can openers and even bowling balls that caused frustration because the balance was off.

He kneaded hard into the scar tissue, willing it to loosen and stretch under the heat and pressure of his hands. He wanted to make sure it stayed soft and flexible. Since Starsky wasn't able to use his left hand and arm normally, his shoulder tended to get stiff. After a few minutes he could feel the tightness disappear and the joint loosen up.

"Man, I needed that," Starsky said with a sigh. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a hundred years old, goin' on two hundred."

Hutch chuckled. "What a whiner. Just wait until you are that old and this'll seem like nothing. Besides, think of all the calories you burn chasing bad guys down alleys and over fences-"

"...and through abandoned buildings, up rotten stairs, over cars and through stores. It's a wonder we aren't worse off than we are. We could've broken a million bones by now. One these days we're gonna be too old for all that action."

Hutch agreed with Starsky silently. He moved his attention to the other shoulder, feeling the tendons relax even further. He closed his eyes, concentrating. It was almost as if he could feel all the way into the joint, telling by touch just in what shape it was in. He continued working on it then moved back to the bullet scar and then Starsky's neck.

_ He's pretty loose, but still knotted up_, he thought in concern, concentrating further into what his hands could feel beneath them. _He's still sore from the car accident..._ Sometimes he swore that he could almost feel the blood vessels beneath the skin and if he just looked and thought hard enough...

"...doctor?"

Hutch jumped, realizing Starsky had said something and he had missed it. Releasing his hold on Starsky's neck, he gave him a quick pat. "Sorry, missed that."

"I'm that fascinatin', huh?" Starsky turned sideways a bit, showing Hutch a grin. "I asked you why you never became a doctor." His voice had turned quiet and serious as he dropped his leg to sit on the edge of the mattress. "You could've made a million bucks doin' that for money." He flexed his shoulder and carefully stretched his arm and hand.

"It was just a massage, pal," he replied, pulling his foot out of the water to examine it.

"Nah, I've had massages before, y'know, when they were doin' therapy on my shoulder. An' they were always meant to keep things from gettin' worse and settin' up on me. Whenever you do it, it's like you're actually fixin' something, a little bit at a time. You do it long enough and that shoulder is gonna be better'n new."

Hutch shrugged slightly, putting his foot back into the water, trying to keep the pleased smile off of his face. He had always been proud that he could help Starsky recover from his injuries and relieved that his partner allowed him to do what he could.

"I thought about it, in high school," he admitted. "But doctors go in and out, from one patient to the next..." he trailed off, not know how to express himself. He finally shrugged. "I'd've made a lousy doctor because I'd spend a couple of hours with each patient and the backlog would have been horrible." He smiled at Starsky's amused look. "I just can't detach from people I'm supposed to help that easily. But I did think about being a male nurse, or a therapist. That's why I took some pre-med classes in college. I never followed it too far after I got distracted with criminal science, but I have to admit that having some medical training and background comes in handy on the streets."

"Really," Starsky replied with a knowing grimace. "It's nice to know I've got a partner who knows where all the important parts are." His face went serious as he seemed to stare off into the distance. "You never know when someone's gonna plug ya real good and those first few seconds of care are gonna mean the difference between being rat food and making it until the ambulance arrives."

Hutch felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise at Starsky's words. He looked at his partner carefully, watching his friend's face as he seemed to see something serious in the distance.

_ He scares me when he does this_, Hutch realized worriedly. _Like when he sees something on the streets and he knows something's going to go down, just by gut instinct. Intuition? Gypsy blood? Or fear of what could happen? Sometimes I think he might see things better than that psychic Collandra ever did... _"We don't have to work the way we do, partner." He nudged him gently to get his attention. "You know we can back off and play the game straight. If it worries you..."

"Nah, I'm not worried." Starsky seemed to come out of his reverie and smiled him. "We won't stop any of it unless we get in and walk the edge. And I want us to stop as much of it as we can..." He smiled and rubbed his shoulder, "before we **do** get to be a hundred and break our last bone. 'Sides, I got you around to keep all my pieces together." He stood abruptly, ending the conversation. "And I forgot to tell you my good news," he added, glancing at Hutch sideways, with a satisfied smile.

"Oh, let me guess. You were able to supervise the correct placement of one new picnic table."

"Well, that too," Starsky replied. "But it just so happens that my dream girl managed to track me down all by herself. Seems I also have a late-night date."

"What some girls won't settle for..." Hutch shook his head in disbelief. "I guess I won't have to worry about you waiting up for me then. And I guess I won't have to bring you any roasted marshmallows from the bon-fire."

"Bon-fire? Hey' we're goin' to a bon-fire too. I guess it must be some kinda park employee thing. She said it was a private get-together."

"She works for the RV park?" Hutch asked in surprise. "You know, that's a coincidence because my girl works here too. In fact, I met her while she was working in the office with that older guy, Sid. I had to get change for my laundry..." Hutch drifted off when he saw his face go blank.

"Don't tell me..." Starsky closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "She's about late twenties, long, really dark hair hanging down to her waist in a braid. She had brown eyes with these little gold flecks in them, a soul killing smile, legs that go all the way up to her shoulders and..." He opened his eyes and stared at his partner. "...her last name happens to be Calbert and she has a brother named Robert."

"Yeah," Hutch replied in surprised shock. "How the hell do you know all that? I knew she was going to meet a Robert someone, but I didn't know that Robert was her brother. You've met her? You must've met her in the office then?"

"Nope," Starsky replied with a heartfelt sigh. "I met her in Peakness when she was in talking to her brother. She's the one I met in town that I was going to trace down. She came by with the new table just a little while ago and invited me to a 10 p.m. bonfire."

"No kidding?" Hutch asked in disbelief. He suddenly felt as if the whole day had been shot to hell. "I can't believe this! What's going on? Do we have 'Bozo' tattooed on our foreheads or something? And let me guess, she's coming by here at 10 p.m. and you're walking to the bon-fire, right?"

"You got it." Starsky sat down in the opposite bed, pushing the rolled up sleeping bags aside. "Must be some kinda group that's trying to recruit members or something. She must be after any warm body she can get."

They were both quiet for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts.

"Are you still going?" Hutch asked, breaking the silence as he tried to stretch out on the mattress.

"Are you?"

"Wellll..." Hutch drawled, "if she's recruiting for some group or something, that doesn't mean that she's **not** really interested in one of us. I mean, if she **is** interested it would be a shame to waste the opportunity."

"Yeah, that's true," Starsky agreed. "And when we get there, that doesn't mean that you can't check out the other ladies and meet someone nice..."

"Whoa, whoa," Hutch interrupted. "Don't you start assuming anything, buddy. I'm the one she made a date with first, you know. **You** could check out the convention after we get there."

"Whichever, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Starsky stood to unfold the sleeping bags and lay them out in the empty bed frame. "We've got about a half hour before dinner with Dobey and Edith. You don't think she'll be insulted if we leave at 9:30 do you?" He spread the bags out with his awkward hand and lay down and stretched. "And don't get comfortable over there, that's still my spot."

"No, I think Dobey would rather we didn't hang around too much anyway." Hutch snuck a look over at his partner, who was spread out more comfortably than Hutch was able to get. "He and Edith deserve all the private time they've got left on their trip. He'll probably be glad to see us go. And it wasn't **my** fault my mattress got soaked," he reminded quietly, digging for a guilty spot.

"Wasn't my fault either, fluke of camping," Starsky replied quietly, stifling a yawn. "'Sides, the mattress may be fine by now. And you were so sure you wouldn't even make it back here tonight anyway. Confidence slipping?"

"You wish."


	4. Chapter 4

AAAAA

By 5:50 p.m. Harold Dobey had the charcoal burning well, so he settled down at the picnic table to await his company. _I hope they don't mind if we make an early night of it_, he mused. _It's been ages since Edith and I've seen a movie together and there's a good one in town tonight_. He had actually intended to talk to Edith about it when she had returned, but she had beaten him to the punch. But she was sure the 'boys' would understand if they called it an early evening. _Not that those two would have the gall to 'mind'_, he thought with amusement. _Not after helping Starsky hose out that mattress. _He gave it a bemused glance.

"Hey, Captain," Hutch greeted shyly, blond head poking around the corner.

"We're here!" Starsky chimed in unnecessarily as he followed his partner into the area. "You sure we couldn't go and get something for dinner?"

"Don't you dare!" Edith Dobey chastised with a laugh from the RV doorway. "We have more than enough for everyone. Why don't you two come and let Harold give Ken the guided tour? He's been dying to, you know."

"Yeah, wait'll you see it, Hutch," Starsky agreed with awe. "It's like a whole apartment in there."

All four crowded in and Dobey once again gave the grand tour. It was a beautiful piece of equipment and he felt the same jolt of pride showing its features off to Hutch as he had to Starsky. It took only a few minutes, but Hutch looked duly impressed.

"**Really** nice, Captain!" Hutch gave him a mischievous grin at the end of the tour. "You wouldn't happen to want to lend it out once in-"

"**No**," he interrupted with a smug smile, leading them back out to check on his fire. "Not a chance. Especially when I've seen what happens when you two get a hold of a camper." He nodded towards the soggy looking mess propped up against a nearby tree.

"Yeah, well, we should'a gotten a bigger instruction manual with ours," Starsky replied sheepishly.

Edith laughed at the admission. "Well, that's how we learn, Dave, by our mistakes. And I'd tell you about Harold's misadventures with his new baby, but I'm sure you can worm them out of him eventually." She turned towards Hutch with a smile. "I could use a hand with the salad if you don't mind."

"That's me," Hutch volunteered quickly.

"Take a beer with you," Dobey nodded towards the nearby ice cooler with an amused smile. "That is, unless you're tired of it by now."

Starsky reached the cooler first and tossed his partner a beer, holding up one for Edith, but she shook her head at him, declining the offer.

Dobey accepted the beer on his wife's behalf and eyed the progress of the charcoals. Starsky wandered up to him and stood quietly, watching the coals slowly turn to the needed shade of ash.

"Ah... Cap'n," Starsky started quietly, "I hope you don't mind if Hutch and I cut out a little early this evening. We, umm..."

"Made some late plans?" Dobey asked just as quietly. "Actually, Edith and I were hoping you wouldn't mind if we made our escape a little early ourselves. We're thinking of hitting the late show at the Peakness cinema."

"Hey, no problem," Starsky replied quickly, obviously relieved. "How's nine sound for calling it an evening? We have a date for about ten..."

"Fine with me." He returned to his lounge chair, leaving Starsky the picnic table seat. "So," he began quietly, "I can see Hutch is in a better mood. Is he enjoying this trip yet." _And what was that scene in the truck about_? he wondered silently, not daring to ask it out loud.

"Well, I think he's given up fighting it," Starsky answered with a disgusted grimace. "You wouldn't believe what happened this afternoon. He went up to wash his clothes from the beer mess and everything was stolen from the washers."

Dobey felt his eyes widen at the news. "Turn in a report?"

"Yeah, to the management." Starsky sighed as he leaned back on the table, careful of his injured arm. "We went into town and he got some thrift store stuff to tide him over." He gave a small chuckle. "He's pretty much decided that he's jinxed, so he's not going to worry about it anymore."

Dobey saw the worried look behind the chuckle and wasn't fooled. "Does he think he was jinxed, or that he **deserves** anything bad that happens?" he asked softly, eye on the RV door.

Starsky looked up sharply, that protective gleam in his eyes that Dobey had seen many times before. But he just relaxed and shrugged. "Yeah, he's still not sure he's forgiven for the whole amnesia thing. He doesn't really believe it's over and done with. Back to normal." Starsky took a sip of beer, eyes focused on the distance.

"Is it?" Dobey asked softly. "It **was** a pretty nasty scene, all the way around."

"Yeah, as far as I'm concerned, it's over," Starsky said shyly. "It wasn't all his fault you know."

Dobey grunted at the statement, taking a sip of the cooling beer. "I figured as much. You wouldn't believe the citizen complaints I had coming in about your driving right before the crash." He said it softly, not wanting to accuse or blame. The flush of Starsky's face told him he knew full well what the reports must have said. "They were all taken care of, but the Chief made a notation in your file..." He saw the grimace, "And about Hutch-"

"I scared the shit outta him, Cap'n," Starsky admitted quickly. "Twice in fact. He told me the night before you found out about him faking it." He placed his beer on the table, stretching and taking a furtive glance at the cabin door. Starsky leaned forward so he wouldn't be overheard. "Hutch has this thing about speed. Gets real nauseous at times, won't even go on the fast rides at the amusement parks. It doesn't bother him in the cities, 'cause you can't really pick up the pace when you gotta take a turn at a second's notice. 'N he's got a good grip on it when we're after some really nasty bad guys. You know, it keeps his mind offa the chase. But I got carried away and he tried to tell me that the chase wasn't worth the risk. I just ignored him and then the crash happened..."

Starsky reached over to rub at his hurt wrist absently. looking uncomfortable. "I woke up pretty quickly at the scene, but Hutch was unconscious all the way in. We were separated in the ER and when he woke up they wouldn't tell him anything," his voice grew serious. "Hutch has pulled a couple of dead drivers outta cars when he was in uniform Cap'n. He said that the steering wheel can rip a guy's heart outta his chest on impact. He hadda help move a couple of bodies like that and saw the results. And then at the ER, when he couldn't get any information about me..."

Starsky took a thick swallow, rubbing absently at this hand and wrist. Dobey let him have the silence for a moment.

"So he thought you were dead," Dobey said, filling in the silence. As a cop, he and the detectives knew that hospital personnel would rarely inform a patient of the death of another. They would let you know that your companion was alive, if it soothed your own recovery, but they left the bad news up to family, friends or law enforcement when they could. No use getting an emergency patient upset until he was stable. "They must have moved you to another area and another set of doctors. They just didn't know what to tell him."

"Yeah," Starsky replied quietly. "It was quite awhile before he heard my name mentioned by chance. He heard that I was okay, just shaken up and bruised. By the time the specialist came to check his head and spinal X-rays, Hutch was in pain and mad at me for the whole thing. That's when he started in with the amnesia. Do you know that the Doctor never even checked his file for the standard head injury questions? You know, like 'What's your name?' or 'Who's the President?' Since the X-ray's for Hutch's head and spine were clear, the guy never checked any closer."

"So, he wanted to get back at you." Dobey's voice grew gruffer than he had intended. "A nasty trick."

"He didn't mean for it to get so outta control, Cap'n," Starsky sounded apologetic. "He was in pain from the accident and they couldn't give him the good stuff because of the morphine thing. He just wasn't thinking right." He waved his arm helplessly. "He didn't realize that once he'd started, there wasn't any good way out of it. Then he got too scared to let go and admit to what he'd done. Until that night..." He smiled lopsidedly at the Captain. "We had one hell of a fight too. We woke everyone on the floor up with our yellin'. When they threatened to move one of us to another room we calmed down enough to talk it through."

"But did you fix it?" Dobey wondered out loud.

"Yeah, nothin' was really broken anyway." Starsky shrugged, looking unconcerned about that point. "We were both just having a bad day at the same time. But he really was sorry about bein' nasty to you and Huggy. That's why he came by right before you left and brought you that wine. Huggy got some too."

"An expensive vintage," Dobey remarked, taking another sip of the beer. He clearly remembered the night before his vacation, packing and loading the RV when Hutch had arrived, driven by his partner. Hutch had been contrite and had apologized sincerely, presenting him and Edith with the wine as a bon voyage gift. Dobey had accepted his apology with a minimum of growling. "We really enjoyed it. It meant a great deal for me to be able to relax on this trip." _And not leave with hurt feelings and unsettled issues_, he added silently.

"Apology accepted?" Starsky asked solemnly, watching Dobey face closely.

"In full." He smiled and watched as Starsky grinned back, visibly relaxed now that **that **had been settled. Dobey raised his bulk out of the lounge chair and headed for the RV. "Looks like it's time for those steaks. Wait until you get a taste of my new marinade."

AAAAA

Edith Dobey busied herself with the marinade after setting the salad ingredients out for Ken. She could see that her husband and Dave were safely over by the grill and out of earshot and felt relieved that she could talk to the tall blond in private. She had been worried about all three of the men. Harold had been worried about the whole affair and had been slightly hurt at the way it had all played out.

_ Nothing about that whole scene sounded like Ken at all_, she mused in concern. _And I can't help but worry about how Ken and Dave worked things out. They look fine on the surface, but I know Harold is concerned about the partnership. _She knew that Harold had adopted the two long ago and felt responsible for their welfare.

"It shouldn't be too long before Harold has the grill ready," she said, hoping to start conversation. "He's been experimenting with these marinades for the last two weeks and I have to admit this one is much better than mine." She smiled. "Now if I can only get him to cook like this over a stove..."

"Ah, but it's never quite the same over a stove as it is over a fire," Hutch answered with amusement. He was working on cutting carrots for the salad. "It always seems to taste better when you're outside, anyway."

"Well, Harold has enjoyed all of this vacation so far," she added, watching her husband as he talked to Starsky. "But it's so hard to get him to take his time off. We were lucky he got to take his overdue leave all at once, so he can really feel like he's had a rest." She glanced him. "We really enjoyed the wine, Ken. And it meant a lot that you brought it over when you did." She saw a slight flush color his cheeks.

"I hope so, Edith. I'm **really** sorry about the whole thing, with the Captain and all." He paused in his slicing and looked at her sadly. "I really blew it and wish it had never happened."

"You must have been very mad at Dave," she responded softly, reaching out to pat the detective's arm. "I'm sure you must have been in a lot of pain at the time."

"Well, not enough to excuse anything." Hutch nibbled on a carrot slice and sighed. "I just... well... didn't think beyond the moment when I started the stupid act, and I was mad at Starsk. Then I didn't know how to get out of it. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he may never forgive me. I just couldn't admit to it or stop it. At least while I had amnesia, he could stand to be in the same room with me."

Edith felt for the man. She knew how dear Starsky was to him. "Well, I can't blame you for being mad at Dave like that. Harold told me about the citizen complaints about his driving and how dangerous it was." She busied herself with finding place settings.

"It wasn't his fault," Hutch replied quickly. "He may push the envelope in that car once in awhile, but he's the best. He had control until the last second. It didn't help that I was distracting him like I was." Hutch shrugged at her and smiled helplessly. "I tend to get sick at high speeds and I was getting to the point of losing it that time." He gave a forced chuckle. "You can imagine how he would have reacted if I'd actually messed up that Torino from the inside."

"But was the chase necessary?" She asked. "Did he need to put all those pedestrians at such risk to catch those criminals? Were they that important?" She already knew Harold's feelings on the subject. A 'rookie manoeuvre' he had fumed at the time. But while Ken had been sick, her husband hadn't the heart to chastise Starsky.

"I honestly didn't think so at the time," he answered candidly, resuming his work on the salad. "But he was the driver, it was up to him to decide."

"Not if you're working as a team, Ken." She stopped to look up at Hutch, hoping to ease his embarrassment. "I can understand how mad you must have been afterwards and how scared you were for him. I can understand your reactions and even forgive you for them, as I know Harold has done. We all make mistakes and hurt those who are dear to us sometimes. You both were very lucky that it ended the way it did. But have you and Dave really made your peace over it? You know I worry over you both."

"He says I'm forgiven," Hutch said simply, not looking fully convinced. "We talked over the whole thing that night and Starsk isn't one to hold a grudge or to lie about his feelings. And I'm not mad at him anymore. So I'll take it on faith that it's okay again. But I still wish..." He trailed off with a helpless shrug.

"I know," Edith said softly. "And I'm glad everything worked out. After all," she added with a kind smile, "if Harold's favorite team was to break up, I'd never hear the end of it at home. And you **know** what a bear that man can be."

"Yes, I have to say that I do," Hutch replied with a shy chuckle.

"Must be time for the steaks," Edith said suddenly, spying her husband moving towards the camper. _I'm glad to hear that everything is forgiven_, _if not forgotten,_ Edith thought with a satisfied smile. _Even if Ken isn't sure of it yet._

AAAAA

The two detectives took their leave after a fine dinner and good company and walked quietly back to their camper at the allotted time. Starsky could tell that Hutch's enthusiasm for the rest of the evening was just as low as his. If it weren't for the fact that they would get to meet some of the other campers, he would have almost felt too disappointed to go.

_ I'm being petty_, he decided as they made their quiet way back. _Tina __**did**__ invite me for a reason and I knew it was a group convention. If she ends up as Hutch's date, then I'm gonna be big about it. But it ain't over 'til the pretty lady sings. _Starsky chuckled to himself and saw Hutch give him a glance as he unlocked the trailer.

"Good mood, huh?" Hutch asked with a smile. "Not too disappointed?"

"Nah. It's true, she's a knockout, but I'm gonna enjoy this vacation. And there are plenty of eligible ladies around. Why worry?"

"Good point, Gordo," Hutch replied, waving his friend through the door first. "Lose with grace."

"Depends," He replied, putting on his most evil smile, "on who 'Grace' is, and if I like her better."

They both grabbed towels and evening clothes, ignoring the still strong beer smell and walked up to the nearest facilities for their showers. Starsky noticed that his friend's limp was less pronounced without the bandage and while his own arm was still sore it was fine with only the sling. They showered and changed, then hurried back to the camper, tossing their old clothes in a corner and settled at the bright red table.

Starsky enjoyed the evening darkness and sounds of nature, as long as they were punctuated by human sounds and dapples of lights from various sources. They both sat quietly, listening to the night settle in. They hadn't been there for too long when he saw a bobbing flashlight approach. "There she is," he announced.

"Hello!" called a familiar voice. "Are we ready?"

"Yes," Hutch called bemusedly. "**We** are."

Starsky watched in appreciation as Tina Calbert came within the faint light of the camper's open door. She looked wonderfully fresh in hiking boots, tight jeans, a white wide-collar shirt and a dark blue windbreaker. Her thick, dark hair had been loosened to flow freely down her back, held back from her face with a blue hair-band.

"Ken, you look nice!"

Starsky felt his stomach drop at the greeting and smile she flashed at his partner. Tina barely glanced at him as she walked up to Hutch.

"Thanks," Hutch replied, sounding a bit subdued. "You look real nice too, Gina."

_ Gina? _He thought with a hidden smirk. _He's even got her name wrong_.

"You've met my partner, Dave Starsky." He nodded in his direction.

"Actually, no," Gina replied, turning towards Starsky and smiling her familiar smile. "I can't say that I have. How do you do?" She held out her hand. "Ken told me he was here with his partner."

The detective was struck by her rudeness. He felt like making a snappy comeback, but saw the look on Hutch's face. _He's uncomfortable with the situation too. Well, nothing left but to be a gentleman and not call her a liar to her face_, Starsky thought, forcing a smile and reaching for her hand. _Maybe Hutch can salvage something from this._

"Uh oh! No you don't!"

He felt himself freeze at the nearby, more-than-familiar voice. He turned to see another flashlight bobbing towards their door.

"That one's mine, Sis! Hands off!" The voice laughed delightedly as Starsky felt his eyes widen. "Hey, Dave. Lookin' good. But no touching **tha**t one. She's my mortal enemy."

Out of the shadows of the night another young lady stepped into the faint light. An exact duplicate for the first, with only the hair and the clothes to mark any difference.

"Twins!" Hutch laughed delightedly. "They're identical twins."

"Didn't she tell you?" Gina asked him. Her eyes rolled at the shake of his head. She shook her own disgustedly. "I thought **you** told them, Tina," she said towards the new figure.

Tina Calbert laughed again, shrugging at the situation. "No, I didn't tell them. When would I have told them?" Tina smiled at Starsky. "Sorry, Dave. We **are** twins, but mirror twins. And I didn't realize that Tina and I had picked out guys from the same lot number until we were getting dressed to come and we compared notes. I thought I'd hang back and see what happened." She was still smiling at him but reached out to give her sister a slight shove and stuck her tongue out. "We don't usually have this happen anymore, so I don't make it a habit to warn my dates ahead of time."

All four adults laughed good naturedly at the situation.

Starsky, feeling infinitely relieved, was once again looking forward to this convention. "I still can't believe it," he admitted, looking from one to the other. Tina had arrived in boots and jeans too, but she wore a light red shirt under a new, white sweatshirt, her braid hanging down in back. "So we've got Tina," he said pointing to his date, then looking towards Hutch's date, "and Gina Calbert. And somewhere is brother Robert."

"You catch on quick, sir." Tina laughed.

"And you say you're mirror twins?" Hutch asked with interest. "Do you know what that means? They're not only identical, but opposite."

"Opposite?" Starsky didn't quite understand.

"Like a mirror," Gina answered. "Mainly, one of us is left-handed, the other is right handed. Our features are identical because we're twins, but on the opposite sides. Even our birthmark is identical, but on different sides."

"Oh, Yeah," he replied looking down closely at them both to see the difference in their features. "You mean the beauty mark." Starsky saw that Tina had a little beauty mark just on the outside of her right eye and Gina had one on the left.

"No, she doesn't mean that one and no, you can't see it." Tina smiled evenly at him and Gina laughed. "At least, you can't see mine yet, if ever and you are **never** to see hers."

"Oh," Hutch chimed in with a smile and a leer. "One of those, huh?"

"Yes, but the same goes for you too," Gina replied, taking Hutch's arm possessively. "And we've got a walk ahead of us, so if you don't mind, we'd better be on our way."

AAAAA

The detectives locked up the camper and gallantly took over the flashlights for the walk down the trail. Gina explained that there were several trails that led to Captor's Cove, but the closest way by foot was at the end of the gravel road. They made their way past the quiet Dobey RV and Tina pointed out the tree-sheltered path. It had been kept cleaned but had overgrown a bit with wild brush, which kept them on their toes for a ways. They then came to the lake's shoreline and they could see the bon-fire in the distance. They all four slowed, enjoying the play of lights on the still water.

Hutch felt wonderful and was glad the pace was slow. He figured the rest of them had slowed their pace to match his and he appreciated all the company_. No use making it any worse than it has to_. He knew he would have to rest his foot most of the evening. But sitting and talking sounded wonderful. The flicker of the firelight on the water was like a stars cape, complimenting the reflection of the waxing moon_. Full moon in a couple more days, then the wildness runs free_. He smiled at the thought. Many scoffed it, including him, but there did seem to be more craziness during the night of a full moon. Even cops saw and commented on it.

"Penny," Gina said quietly, hugging his arm closer.

"For **my** thoughts?" he replied with a chuckle. "Hey, I ain't cheap."

"Well, a dime maybe, but that's my limit." She smiled up at him. "Going... going..."

"Gone," Hutch finished, smiling in the darkness. "I was just thinking about the craziness a full moon brings out in people." He eyed the bon-fire and the apparent gathering that drew closer with each step. "So how weird **are** you people anyway?"

"Well, **that's** a nice question." Starsky snorted from behind him. "The least you can do, Hutch, is pretend you didn't notice."

"Oh, no, Dave," Tina broke in, a grin in her voice. "Ken was apparently given fair warning. The group actually **is** here for the full moon." Her voice grew quiet and took on a haunting quality. "We're all going to turn into werewolves and terrorize the trailer park in a couple of nights and if you're good, we'll let you live!"

Hutch stifled a snicker, wishing he could see his partner's face behind him. Starsky was like a kid, loving horror movies and never quite convinced that there **wasn't** a monster hiding in every closet.

"Werewolves?" Starsky asked with a forced laugh. "I'm actually more fond of vampires myself. So what is this weird group we're going to spend the evening with?"

"Tina and I are members of ESPRIT. We had the pleasure of setting up the convention this year."

"Esprit?" Hutch repeated. "As in 'esprit de corps'?"

"Yes, silent 'T' and all," Gina replied. "It stands for 'ESP, Ramifications In Technique'. We're a loose group, mostly getting together for fun, but we all have one thing in common. We've all been tested in one way or another for extra sensory perception."

"You and Tina have ESP?" Starsky asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, in some way or another," Tina answered with a bored shrug. "Most twins seem to have some kind of connection. Gina and I have our peculiarities." She smiled at the two men. "We've been tested at universities and different clinics, mostly for free, with room and board included. We've always volunteered for studies and kept running into the same people. A group was formed a few years ago when we all became friends. Then everyone started inviting new people. The crowd gets larger every year."

"We're not a serious group." Gina waved towards the nearby gathering. "We talk and gossip, compare test sites and projects. We encompass all kinds of people and all different kinds of religions and beliefs. There are people who are into things like telepathy, clairvoyance, precognition, second sight, telekinesis, paragnosis-"

"...fortune telling, prophecy, scrying, divination, Ouija boards, palmistry, planchette, healing," Tina continued with a yawn, "to go on and on. This year the park was selected and Gina and I set up the reservations for it all. It's fun and kinky and the full moon get everyone going." She smiled wickedly. "If we can't kick up our powers into overdrive with a full moon, we can at least have some great parties."

"Hey, I'll join," Hutch volunteered quickly. "Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, you **are **weird enough," Starsky threw in. "But you don't have a trick."

"Little you know. I can tell my fortune in the cards."

"When? I've never seen you do that?"

"Yes you have, last month when I told you not to press your luck by upping the ante at that poker game."

"But that was poker. That doesn't count."

"Sure it does. I told you I was going to win and I did." Hutch grinned at his partner's irked expression. "I saw it in the cards."

Both ladies laughed and Hutch got the impression that the other detective was rolling his eyes at him.

They came upon the gathering and Hutch could see there were quite a few people there. A large bon-fire had been set ablaze on the sandy beach, away from the tree-line. A couple of hundred or so people were milling around it and the various picnic tables and lawn furniture. Hutch spied a couple of kegs over in one corner and a couple of tables nearby loaded with snacks.

Before he could offer to fetch beer, a very, very large women in a brightly colored moo-moo and salt-and-pepper hair piled haphazardly on her head, flew towards them, her speed belying her size.

"My dears! My dears! Everything is just **wonderful**! I can just feel that **this** year is going to be **so** much fun!" she spouted, obviously delighted.

The woman was not just large in body, but in personality. Even out in the open, Hutch felt as if she was taking up all the room there was.

"Here are your name tags, all done and ready and I'm so glad you're here now," The large lady continued. And with her words she deftly planted a tag on Gina and Tina's chests.

Hutch noticed they both said 'telepathy' underneath the girls names. But his attention was jerked back to the large lady as she stepped up close to inspect him and Starsky.

"Oh my! Oh my! I don't know how to label **you** two." She giggled, delighted with what she saw.

"Augustine! Auggy!" Gina raised her voice, just catching the large woman's attention. "I'm glad everything is going well. But these are our dates, dear. They aren't one of us, they're just here to have some fun." Gina patted the large woman's arm kindly, as if she knew this would be a major disappointment for her. "And we really don't need name tags. If we need to..."

"Oh, no." Augustine giggled again. "We all need to know dear, in case we want to get panels set up by the full moon. I think there is going to be a lot going on that night and not everyone has met yet."

Augustine turned to stare at Hutch again, squinting her eyes, then doing the same thing to his partner. Hutch glanced at his partner, who was smiling uncomfortable under the direct scrutiny.

"And **of course** your friends belong here," Augustine continued with a laugh. "They're **extra-crispy**. All connected and **everything**. You **know** what that means!" Augustine directed her last statement to Starsky, reaching out to pat his arm.

"We're fried chicken?" Starsky replied with an uncertain smile, looking as if he was dealing with a lunatic.

Augustine broke into gales of laughter. Hutch smiled and tried to sidestep the lady but Augustine got a good grip on his wrist and he quickly realized he was not going anywhere without drastic counter moves and maybe a choke hold. Hutch was resigned to smile and nod politely to an apparent friend of the girls.

"Oh, you're good," Augustine delightedly, giggling like a five-year-old. She finally caught a breath and surveyed both detectives again. "It's your auras, dear. I see auras. You know the colors and shapes of your life force."

"What **do** you see, Augustine?" Tina asked, looking interested.

Augustine gathered herself and squinted her eyes at them once again, suddenly looking serious. "They've got twin auras, my dear. They both have a deep blue centers, with a golden corona outside of that." She pulled Hutch by his captive arm and steered him away from the group slightly, watching the air between him and Starsky. "Their base colors are slightly different, but are of the same tone and intensity. The golden corona is what connects them." She moved her left hand, as if drawing a line leading from Hutch to Starsky. "It's free flowing, going from one to the other." She let him go and stood back, her laughter returning. "And they sparkle, the extra-crispy part."

"I know what most of that means, Augustine," Gina replied, voice quiet and soothing. "But you've lost me again. What are the sparkles?"

"They're like energy vampires." With this, Augustine covered her mouth in glee. "They draw from their environment and the energy around them. The wilder the environment, the more loose energy they can catch and absorb. The sparkles are their auras absorbing those bits of energy around them." Augustine sighed at the invisible sight. "Well, I'll get them figured out by-and-by. You must let me know what you both **do**, my dears and I'll get you tagged correctly." Augustine turned suddenly and headed speedily back into the crowd where she had come.

"Who was that?" Hutch asked in astonishment. Gina had said 'weird', but there was one level of weird, then there was another. "And what was she talking about?"

"Augustine Greenfield," Gina answered, laughing at the look on the men's faces. "She's one of the more, uhm... energetic group members. She's harmless, but she's been living with visible auras all of her life. People tend to brush her off at first, but when she analyses the auras of those around her, she's more often than not right on the mark. Guess it's official. You two are one of us now."

"But what **was** she talking about?" Starsky asked. "I mean, I know what auras are supposed to be, but what's with the colors and the sparkles? I mean, not that I believe all this..." He drifted off and shrugged a bit embarrassedly as if afraid to hurt feelings.

"Auggy sees auras on everyone if she looks at them the right way," Tina answered, smiling at what was Starsky's obvious confusion on the issue. "Most people who see auras see different colors and they mean different things to each person. To Augustine, the blue aura is your life color. The corona is the active part of your life force and yours is gold. That means you're involved and active in life. But the sparkles I hadn't heard of before."

"What did she mean by a 'twin aura'?" Hutch asked. "And how they be called 'twin' if our base colors are different?"

Tina gave Gina a strange look and both shrugged. "You'll have to ask Augustine that question," Gina responded, a bemused smile on her face. "She's a bit hard to follow at the best of times and I've only heard her use it in two situations. One is the real 'twin' aura, which means the auras are identical. Since Tina and I actually started out as one cell, and have the exact same DNA, then we're actually one person as far as our auras are concerned."

"But Hutch and I aren't exactly twins," Starsky said, looking a little concerned. "What was the second situation?"

"Well," Tina answered with a slight giggle, "Auggy has only mentioned it in one other way that I know of and that's with old married couples. You know, like when two people have been together so long that they start looking like each other."

Hutch found himself joining in the laughter at the worried look on his partner's face.

"Just think of it this way, Starsk," Hutch nudged his friend with a laugh, "you couldn't help but look a little better with some blond in you. You know, a little more WASPish..."

"And you..." Starsky replied with a mischievous glare, stabbing at Hutch's chest with a forefinger, "...you keep **your** aura to yourself. You're **really** starting to worry me, you know that?"

And with the renewed laughter they all headed towards the snack tables and kegs.


	5. Chapter 5

AAAAA

Plate filled and drink in hand, Starsky followed the other three towards a corner picnic table. He had been really impressed with the snack layout_. Someone sure has collected a lot of money for goodies_, he thought. _I wonder just what all these people do for a living? _He chuckled to himself at the slightly suspicious thought_. Time to turn the cop mode off, Dave. We're on vacation, remember?_

"Nice sized gathering," Hutch commented, settling down with a plate Starsky noted contained little more than cut vegetables and some kind of lumpy dip. No taste testing there. "How many actually belong to ESPRIT?"

"Around 500 or so," Tina answered. She was sitting across from Hutch and next to Starsky. "But it fluctuates. Some are in it for serious self research and some for fun, so there's no fixed number. It's quite a mixed crowd."

Across from him, Gina nodded her head enthusiastically, swallowing a bite of dessert. "You wouldn't believe the kind of people who've joined. We have all nationalities and religions. We have Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Satanists, Wiccans and even an Indian Medicine Man, and those are just the ones I know. Mostly we're all from North America, but there are a few from England and a couple from Japan and Africa. They are mostly people living in the states while on Visas."

"So, what? You get together to compare notes and kibitz?" Starsky ask around a drink of beer. "Or do you all have the same tricks in common?"

"Tricks? Ah, an unbeliever," Tina grinned towards her date. "I can hear it in your voice, Dave. Don't you believe in ESP?"

"Nope," Hutch replied quickly. "He just believes in spooks."

"I happen to have my doubts, yes," Starsky replied with dignity, glancing sternly towards Hutch. "I mean, I've never seen anything that would rule out everything **but** ESP."

"What about Collandra?" Hutch looked a bit surprised. "He helped us find that Haymes girl, uh,... Joanna wasn't it? Remember the 'pretty dead horses grazing in the sun'?"

"Joe Collandra?" Gina asked in surprise. "I've heard of him, but never met him."

"Look," Starsky replied carefully. "I'm not sayin' that Collandra didn't help us 'n all. But there wasn't a thing he told us that he couldn't have found out by bein' in on the whole deal, or from his own connections."

"Come on!" Hutch replied around his vegetable dip. "Who would he have known that would have told him all that?"

"Hey, we get info from Huggy all the time and we don't know where he gets it from." Starsky shook his head. "If Huggy had claimed to be a mind reader and was a better actor, we'd be hard pressed to say he wasn't pullin' facts from thin air."

"A healthy critic," Tina smiled at him, helping herself to a chip from his plate and eating it with a mischievous grin. "A man after my own heart. But the fact is, my dear, that we can't prove anything. Never could."

"Starsk, I just don't see how you can discount the unexplored powers of the human mind and then turn around and wonder if there really is a vampire running around killing people and drinking their blood." Hutch shook his head in disbelief.

"That's different," Starsky shrugged. "So, no one has proven to me that they have special powers. But I've seen enough to know that I believe in evil. We've both seen it in people. And whether it's the evil sprits and demons that my grandparents believed in, or because of a sick mind, the results are the same. I mean, what's the difference between Nadasy **thinking** he was a vampire and him **really** bein' one? If he thinks he's a vampire, then he's gonna eat, breathe, sleep, live and have the morals of a vampire. There wouldn't be any difference."

"Sounds like some guy," Gina interjected quietly, eyes wide. "Did he really think he was a vampire?"

"Yeah," Hutch replied thoughtfully. "And he did take one hell of a jump..." He drifted off quietly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Well, Dave," Tina said with a sly grin, "we have all kinds here and maybe someone'll change your mind. Besides, Augustine says you two are one of us. Maybe we can find out what **your** trick is."

"I noticed that Augustine has you two labeled as telepaths," Hutch threw in. "Is it a twin thing?"

Tina and Gina nodded, both at the same time. "Besides the fact that we're able to finish each other's sentences, there are a few strange things we can do." Gina smiled good naturedly. "And don't worry. We don't believe everything that is claimed here either. But Tina and I have always had some kind of connection and we've spent years trying to find out the how and why of it."

"Although," Tina continued, "it would have been better if we had started when we were younger. Gina and I live in different cities during the winters, so we're separated during half of the year. We usually come back to help Uncle Sid with the RV park, but we really have separate lives. As we've gotten older, I think we've lost a lot of whatever it was we had."

"So, what is it you two can do?" Starsky asked, finding himself very interested. "Read each other's thoughts?"

"Something like that." Tina shrugged. "I seem to be empathic. I can usually tell what Gina is feeling. Mostly it's really strong emotions, like hate or fear. Or..." Tina smiled evilly at her twin, "...when she's having a really good time."

"Tina..." Gina almost growled her warning. "I'd watch it if I were you." The warning was mild and only rated Tina sticking out her tongue at her sister in return. "I seem to be able to pick up what Tina sees." Gina added, almost off-handedly. "Like I can see through her eyes sometimes."

"What she sees?" Hutch asked with great interest. "How clear a picture do you get?"

Gina shrugged. "It's never very clear, no matter what we do. But I can see the structure of her surroundings, such as if she's in a room or outside. Sometime it's with colors here and there and sometimes it's all black and white. But I have to work at it and it comes randomly. All of it's so dream-like that it really doesn't seem real at the time."

"Not a lot has ever been discovered about any of it," Tina added. "We've even been wired to one of those brain wave machines, but they never saw anything."

"That's the problem," Gina chimed in. "Unless you know what brain wave you're looking for, you can't tell the machine how to look for it. They're pretty specific in what they do. I don't think anyone in that study actually expected anything to register."

"That's really interesting," Starsky remarked. "I thought there were just a few things people could do. You know, like read each other's thoughts and stuff. I didn't realize it could cover things like that."

"That's just it. What makes it so hard to study." Tina shrugged and eyed the goodie table again. "Most manifestations of any form of ESP or 'powers' are rarely controllable, can't be measured and very few, if any, can be proven beyond a doubt. All I know is what I 'feel' coming from Gina and compare it to what she says she feels. Other than that, I'm not much convinced in anyone else. Anybody for a second round?"

The rest signaled that they were finished with food for awhile, but decided another free beer wouldn't hurt.

"I think it's time we introduced the guys around," Gina told her sister with a wink. "Let's see if we can get these budding miracle workers pinned down to Augustine's satisfaction."

_ Oh, thrilling_, Starsky thought with a sigh. _Now all they need to do is to send in the clowns and the geeks._

_AAAAA_

Hutch helped to gather the plastic plates and utensils and they all made one more pass for beer. _Someone sure has collected a lot of money for goodies_, he thought. _I wonder just what all these people do for a living? _Hutch shook himself at the surprisingly suspicious thought_. Time to turn the cop mode off, Ken. We're on vacation, remember?_

"There's Jerome," Tina announced, pointed across the crowded sands toward a far corner. "Let's go visit."

The foursome made their apologetic way through the buzzing crowd, Hutch catching a bit here and there from conversations that made him want to stop and join in. He couldn't believe that his partner still had any doubts about the vast potential of the human mind.

_ I didn't know Starsky still had doubts about Collandra_, he mused_, even after all the things the man had been absolutely right about. He's a pretty good judge of character. I wonder what keeps throwing him off about all this ESP stuff. How can you __**not**__ be fascinated by it?_

He followed Tina, Gina and Starsky over to the opposite corner of the convention, coming upon a table holding several laughing people.

"Hey, guys," Tina said cheerfully, announcing their arrival. "How're the vibes tonight?"

"Couldn't be better," a young Latino man replied, grinning at their approach. "You two must've worked some heavy magic to make everything go this well. I'm surprised that Tina the Tornado could get away with convention plans as smooth as this." The young man watched her with amusement.

"Well, I can't help it," Tina explained smugly, presenting a snobbish expression. "When you're perfect, planning these things is a snap."

"Yeah, especially when you have your sister do most of the work," Gina interrupted incredulously. "Don't believe her, Charley, she's BS'ing again."

All three at the table broke into laughter at Tina's rolling of the eyes.

"Well, we might have some new recruits here, so don't scare them away," Gina continued. "Everyone, we'd like you to meet our dates, Ken Hutchinson and Dave Starsky. Ken, Dave this is Charles Lopez," Gina gestured toward the younger, Latino man, "Beth Devoe." A middle aged woman with thick glasses nodded her head. "And Jerome Clancy," Gina finished, nodding toward an older man.

Hutch took turns shaking hands with Charley, nodding a greeting toward Beth. But it was Jerome who immediately drew Hutch's attention. An older man, he was tall, thin and wiry, with a full head of close cropped white curls and a closely trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. His face was sun-bronzed and deeply etched with lines that spoke of a man who smiled honestly and often.

_ The original cowboy_, Hutch thought, fascinated with the man. _A man who's close to nature, I can just feel it. _He shook Jerome's hand and found a strong and warm grip.

"Pleased to meet you, boys," Jerome responded sincerely. He scooted over and waved them to a seat. "So, what kind of victims have these two brought for the rest of us to corrupt?"

Hutch chuckled, noticing that Starsky was relaxed and smiling warmly and the girls seemed totally at home.

"You tell us," Gina replied, looking a bit serious. "Augustine says they are one of us and they're..." She broke off, smiling at the dramatic silence, "...extra-crispy."

The three convention goers at the table groaned in unison, bringing chuckles to the twins.

"That woman." Beth shook her head in amusement, readjusting her glasses. "She is forever creating new vocabulary for what she sees. I can never keep up with what she's saying anymore. I guess I'm just getting lazy. But if Augustine says they belong, the least we can do is follow this up." Beth looked over both men closely. "That is, if you two don't mind playing along?"

Hutch threw Starsky a glance and was rewarded with an unconcerned shrug of his friend's shoulders. "Sure, why not?" Hutch replied. "Sounds like fun."

"Well, if you guys don't mind, there's a certain young lady I want to trouble with my presence." Charley Lopez nodded toward them all as he relinquished is chair. "Not that it wouldn't be interesting, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help here." Charley smiled cheerfully and took his leave.

Hutch barely caught sight of Charley's name tag as he passed by. "Water Witch?" He asked in amazement after he had left earshot. "Hey, my great uncle could do that."

"What?" Starsky asked, obviously confused. "Someone in your family was a witch?"

"A water witch," Hutch replied with growing excitement. "My great uncle Simon on my mother's side. Grandfather used to tell me how he could get a forked branch off of a tree, trim it and cut it to a 'Y' shape and use it to find water. He used to be famous. Great Uncle Simon used to travel all over Minnesota and find water for people."

"Oh?" Starsky look unconvinced of the importance of this. "What did he do, point out the rivers or somethin'?"

"Oh, if it was only that easy," Jerome chuckled. "But it's actually a lot harder to find water if your farm doesn't just up and come with its own river, Dave. And Ken is right, he would have been a valuable tool for his community. In the old days, those guys would have been worth their weight in gold. Well digging was hard and serious work, even killing the odd digger or two. And if you couldn't find the water, you couldn't have much of a farm or a household."

"So, what'd they do?" Starsky asked, looking interested.

"My Grandfather told me," Hutch chimed in, "that Simon would take the 'Y' of a branch and hold an end in each hand. Then he'd block out the outside and clear his mind and just walk. He seemed drawn to large bodies of underground water and when he came upon an area where the rock and soil were thin, then the third part of the branch would suddenly be pulled down to the ground. Grandfather said that Simon always said it was as if the branch was hungry for water."

"So, how did he do?" Beth asked with interest

Hutch felt himself smile with satisfaction. "Grandfather said Simon never pointed out a dry well. Like I said, he was famous in the area." Hutch glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Starsky's reaction. He still didn't look convinced.

"Well, looks like you have some history of 'powers' in your family," Gina said happily, reaching out to take Hutch's arm. "Maybe you've inherited something along your mother's line, then." She looked toward Beth and Jerome. "Do you two mind looking to see what you can find? Are you willing Ken?"

_ How could I say 'no' now_, he thought with amusement. _Although I don't think they'll find anything. Augustine is going to be disappointed. _"Sure," he responded. "If they don't mind."

Jerome gave a lone laugh. "Well, this is the wrong place to be and the wrong time to be here if we did mind. But I think Beth and I can give it a shot."

"What are your specialties?" Hutch asked a bit timidly, wondering just what the correct phrasing was.

"I read the Tarot," Beth answered with a smile. She removed a velvet wrapped package from her purse. "Whether it is my talents or the cards I don't know, but I seem to have some ability with them."

"And I really don't know **what** the hell I do," Jerome replied with a chuckle. "But whatever it is that Augustine 'sees' in her auras, I guess I 'feel' emanating from people. I guess that's why I spend so much time by my lonesome. I get tired of feelin' like I'm bein' smothered in a crowd."

"Not much of a city person, Jerome?" Hutch asked in sympathy.

"No, can't say that I am," he replied with a shrug. "It's too draining on whatever it is I am, so I stick to the great outdoors as much as I can." He gave Hutch a profound look, making Hutch slightly uncomfortable at its depth. "**You** know the need to get away, the sickness that can't be healed," Jerome continued seriously, holding Hutch with his eyes. "Escaping into nature can help relieve the pressure. A much needed purging of the poisons," Jerome added thoughtfully to Hutch. "A man must understand the cure to his own ills, don't you think?"

Hutch felt a sudden chill, as Jerome was seeing a part of him he hadn't known was showing. _How can he know...?_

"So," Beth asked suddenly, breaking into the awkwardly growing silence, "would you two like a reading?"

Hutch forced himself to face Beth, feeling as if he was dragging himself out of something deep, something he had not been expecting. "How about doing mine, Beth? I'd like to see how this works." He saw Jerome smile slightly at his quick offer.

He was waved to a seat opposite Beth at the picnic table. She shuffled the large cards and smiled at him sweetly. She reached out and laid a hand upon his arm and closed her eyes for a moment, as if thinking deeply.

"There are many different ways to spread the cards for a reading and there are many different ways to read them, depending on what deck you are using," Beth intoned, as if reciting a well known song. "I'm just looking for a general reading on who you are as a person. Please cut the deck into three and then put them together in any order you prefer."

After Hutch complied, Beth preceded to lay out ten cards in a predetermined pattern. She was quiet for several moments, studying the cards. Hutch studied the large cards from his vantage point, impressed with the artistic qualities of the designs. _Each one is like a separate work of art_, he thought with interest.

Beth sat for a moment, studying the layout before she spoke. "The general atmosphere of your life is centered on a fortress mentality, protecting your space and living by your inner convictions."

_ Us against them_...

"The obstacles you face are deceptions, subversions and secret schemes.

_ No surprise there..._

"Your inner goal is to be strong enough to face your situations and see them through to the end." Beth tapped another card, nodding her head at what she saw. "The cornerstone of who you are, deep down, is based on the creative and nurturing parts of yourself. There is a strong need for you to express this and it is a well of strength for you to draw upon."

"The perfect mother-hen," Starsky interrupted with a stage whisper and a snicker. He was quickly shushed by Tina's elbow and Hutch's annoyed glance.

Beth smiled at Starsky, but once again caught Hutch's eye before continuing the reading. "You have just come past some embarrassment or shame in your life and in your near future I see frustration. You will feel ganged up on, or blocked from your goals."

_ Well, she's got my recent past right, _Hutch thought in chagrin. He could feel his face flush at the memory. _I'm never going to live the amnesia thing down. And frustration is __**just**__ what I need for my future._

"Your living environment is shown as a continual balance between opposites. Emotional interchanges and compromises are constant companions to you." Beth's fingers had traced their route through the card pattern and came upon the last two. "Your hopes or fears show deep concern or anxiety of any sudden, disastrous change to your life and your ways. This could be a total change in lifestyle and environment or a dramatic and extreme personal loss."

Hutch felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise and his heart jump. _Too close now. Too close..._

Beth smiled soothingly at Hutch, as if reading his rush of inner panic. She placed one hand on his arm, squeezing reassuringly, tapping the last card with the other. "The outcome card is The Chariot." She turned it so Hutch could see it better. Its bright and flowing design showed a stylized soldier driving a chariot pulled by two strong and massive horses. "This card represents a victorious force. The chariot driver represents your future success and control of the situations you will face. Victory is eventually assured. But the way will not be easy and will take much discipline."

"The White Knight," Starsky whispered suddenly in Hutch's ear, startling him with that label. It had too many memories for him to be comfortable with it.

Hutch flashed an uneasy smile at Beth and found himself vacating his seat too quickly. Something was still in a panic inside him and he was afraid to look at it too closely. "Thanks Beth, but I'm not sure I can attest to all that, although some of it rings a bell." _More than some of it_, he thought, suddenly embarrassed at his reaction, _but darned if I know why._

AAAAA

_ It just doesn't ring a bell_, Starsky thought a little uneasily, _it plays the whole damn tune_! He had seen Hutch react and could almost feel his partner's consternation at the reading. _Something hit too close to home for him_. Starsky shrugged off the feeling of uneasiness, unwilling to damper his festive mood.

"How about you, Mr. Starsky?" Beth asked sweetly, shuffling the large cards deftly. "Maybe I can do better with you."

"Sure," Starsky agreed amicably, settling into the seat Hutch had vacated. "Give it your best shot."

Beth placed the mixed deck in front of him and he followed Hutch's example, but determinedly placed the cards together in a different order than Hutch had chosen. Beth gave him a sly smile, as if she had caught the deliberateness of that act. He watched as Beth laid the first ten cards out in the pre-determined pattern.

She sat for a moment, studying the layout before she spoke. "The general atmosphere of your life is centered on your choices in applying the energy of your existence. You can exert a tremendous amount of focus on the task at hand, giving it your total concentration. Yet you are constantly balancing the directions this energy takes, always being pulled in different directions."

_ Hutch and the job..._

"The obstacles you try to overcome are shown as the distance and aloofness you find around you. You constantly battle criticism and struggle to articulate what you have no words for."

_ That's Hutch 'n me_, Starsky thought in surprise. _We never have quite fit in with anyone else at the force..._

Beth looked up at Starsky in slight surprise. "You and your friend seem to have the same goal in life. You both have the Strength card in the same position in the layout."

"Well, that's no surprise." Hutch chuckled, gripping Starsky's shoulder. He could see a bit of a smiled on Starsky's profile as he did so.

"Your goal is to be strong enough to handle the situations you face." Beth tapped another card. "You see yourself as down to earth and sensual. You tend to be secure in yourself and your surroundings and do admit to being stubborn on occasion."

"Admits when?" Hutch asked with amusement, giving his partner's shoulder a shake.

"Just my policy," Starsky replied with a wicked grin. "I admit to things all the time, just never to you."

"In your recent past I see a hurt and bruised ego," Beth continued. She was quiet for a moment, frowning at the cards before her. "In your future I see competition and a challenge to an established order. But you will tend to be the catalyst in this, the focus of the events and not an active participant."

Starsky suddenly shivered, as if something cold had touched the base of his spine. _Not an active participant... _He suddenly felt very uncomfortable with that idea and was suddenly glad for the warm hand on his shoulder.

"Your environment is practical, earthy and comforting to you." Beth smiled at what she saw next. "Your hopes or fears show you are looking for a period of optimism and well being. You are cultivating high hopes for the future."

_ False hope_? Starsky mused. _Wishful thinking_?

"Would you like to see the outcome card?" Beth turned the last card so that Starsky could see it better in the evening lights. "It's called Temperance."

Starsky saw a picture of a stylized angel. The beautiful figure was holding two cups, pouring liquid from one cup to the other. One of the Angel's feet was on dry land, the other in a lake.

"This card represents a blending or melding together of diverse elements or ideas. You will be adaptable, confident and flexible. This can also be a card of healing, or working toward a wholeness. A very nice card to have in this position."

Starsky stared at the card for a moment, feeling as if there was something important he should remember. He forced his eyes away to nod appreciatively toward Beth. "Thanks," he said simply. "That was ..."

"Attention everyone!"

All parties at the table looked towards the elderly man addressing the group. "We are getting some panels set up for the full moon in a couple of days. You all might want to come by the sign up table and see some of the proposed groups. We'll need to know what all you people are interested in doing and how big the groups are going to be. Some of them will require more privacy than this area allows, so we'll need to plan ahead." And with this he walked back to a side table, inviting the crowd to follow him.

"Oh, excuse me," Beth announced apologetically toward the group. "I really need to..."

"Thanks for the readings, Beth," Gina chimed in quickly. "We really appreciate the effort."

"Ditto, Beth," Tina added.

Starsky and Hutch both added their thanks.

Jerome sighed. "Yeah, sorry you guys, but I gotta get in on this too, as I'm heading up one of the panels. I'll catch up with you guys later.

"See you, Jerome," Tina replied with a wave. She sat down next to Starsky and leaned in so that the only gentlemanly thing he could do was to put his arm around her. "Well, I'm not actively participating this year, so we don't have to leave our comfortable seats," she told him with a smile.

"What say we snag the choice places near the bon-fire?" Gina asked Hutch with a grin and a tug on his arm.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. "How did you know I saw burning marshmallows in my future? You must be..."

"Psychic!" Three voices groaned in chorus.

AAAAA

Tired but immensely happy, Hutch limped down the dirt path, enjoying the morning and the gloriously fresh air. The early sun promised a warm and bright day and the bird song fitting wonderfully into his mood.

_ Well worth the wait_, he thought with contentment. While the vacation had had a bit of a rocky start, the evening had more than made up for it. He and Gina had gotten along well. _Very, very smart lady_, he thought with affection. _I wonder if we'll be able to see each other after this vacation was over. _He knew that the odds were of continuing the relationship long distance was small, but he was determined not to let that affect his time with her now.

They had had a wonderful evening. After the tarot readings, he and Gina sat and talked by the bon-fire, meeting people who drifted by now and again. They had drifted off before the dawn to hike carefully to a rocky outcrop to count the stars and watch the sun rise. Luckily Gina had the next day off and could spare the time. After a glorious sunrise he had escorted his lady home to her cabin and had been given an affectionate kiss for his trouble.

_ Now for some shut-eye and some late-afternoon fishing_, he thought optimistically. Gina had agreed to meet with him for a camp-cooked fish dinner. He was hoping he could talk Starsky into renting a boat and going out with him for the company. _Although there's no telling where he is by now, _he mused. _I might be lucky to see him at all for the rest of the week._

Stumbling a bit on a still sore foot, he took his time coming upon his area of the park. Some early morning risers were up and around, readying themselves for a day of wilderness recreation while other camps were dark and still. Hutch drank in the scent of bacon and eggs from some early camp fires and picked up his pace, suddenly hungry.

He came upon the graveled roadway and followed it for awhile, drifting with memories of the last evening as he looked up and spotted his camp site. He froze in shock as he saw their camp site.

It looked pretty much as it had the last time he had seen it, but this wooded and shady area sported only one wearing-looking partner and one picnic table. Missing from the scene was the camper and truck they had brought in only the day before.

Feeling stunned, Hutch shook his head, hoping he wasn't seeing what he actually **wasn't** seeing. He lurched the remaining distance down to the camp site, knowing his partner was watching him every step of the way.

"Where...?" Hutch asked, waving one hand to the obviously empty space in helplessness.

"Actually," Starsky began quietly, head resting on a hand in a tired slump, "I was hoping they were with you."

"No..." Hutch replied quietly, unbelievably. "Don't tell me..."

"We've been robbed." Starsky sighed and turned back to rest both elbows on the red table. He rubbed at his face tiredly.

Hutch felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He hobbled over to the other side of the picnic table and sat down with a grunt.

Starsky sighed and stretched tiredly. "Think it's too early to see if Cap'n Dobey's up? Looks like we're going to need a ride into town to report a theft."

"Not only that, buddy," Hutch added with a grimace. "We'd better hope he's in a good mood, or we're gonna have to hitch a ride home, too."

AAAAA

Harold Dobey surveyed the empty campsite in amazement. _Why am I not surprised_? He felt sorry for the two bedraggled vacationers. _It looks like they are going to have __**that**__ kind of week. I guess it's better they're here than on the job, if their luck is going to run like this._

"Well, let's get you two up to the office and get a report filed." He turned and headed back to his unit. "I can't imagine that anyone would drag that thing very far. It shouldn't be worth much on today's market."

Edith had busied herself making breakfast for the two tired men. They ate quickly, thanking Edith profusely, before Dobey ran the two men up to the park office.

Sid Calbert had been shocked and apologetic, seemingly taking the theft as a personal affront. After a few phone calls in private, he had graciously offered the two the only available cabin he had left for the remainder of their stay and the tired men took him up on the offer. He seemed very relieved that the three officers didn't blame him or his RV park for the theft.

With the promise of a visit by the Sheriff's Department as soon as possible, the two theft victims left with the keys to a furnished cabin, a set of sheets and towels, emergency toiletry packs and gift certificates to several stores in Peakness.

Dobey drove the silent two up to the sheltered cabin and saw them safely tucked away before turning his truck back toward his own campsite.

_ Well, either I'm going to get a few extra days off to baby-sit those two, or they're going to have to come home with us if their truck isn't found_, he thought morosely. Something continued to bother him about that truck and camper. _Maybe I'd better make a long-distance phone call, it just may save us some time in the long run._


	6. Chapter 6

AAAAA

Dave Starsky opened bleary eyes to brightness and the sound of soft snoring from the other bed. Turning over slowly he surveyed the room, recognizing the deluxe cabin that Park Management had gifted them as a consolation prize for being homeless.

_ Too early, too early..._ he rubbed at his eyes and reached over to snag his watch off the nightstand. It was 11 am. He had only been asleep for a few hours. _There's not much point in getting up now, anyway_, he thought, willing himself to drift back into a doze. _It's not like we've got anywhere to go or anything to wear for that matter. Looks like we've got another trip to Peakness for clothing. I think Hutch is going to crack if he has to hit that laudrymat one more time. _He caught a snicker before it escaped. _Geesh, back to sleep, Dave, you're getting weird._

He had just buried his head under the covers and tucked his arm into a more comfortable position when he heard a loud thump at the door, startling him. Throwing an annoyed glance at his still snoring partner, he wrapped himself up in the blanket and opened the door a crack.

"Pardon me sir, are you David Starsky or Kenneth Hutchinson?"

Starsky found himself squinting into the mid-day sunlight at two Sheriff's Deputies in uniform and sunglasses.

"Yeah, I'm Starsky," he replied nodding his head. _Good, maybe we can get the paperwork over early._

The older man nodded toward his partner. "We're Martin and Davenport, Sheriff's Department. May we come in for a moment?"

"Just give me a minute to get my partner up," he replied with a yawn. Closing the door on their nods, he shuffled over to an oblivious Hutch. After a bit of shaking he was finally able to roust his partner enough to get dressed.

Opening the door, Starsky sat with Hutch on the edge of his bed and waved the Sheriff's Deputies to the small table nearby. "Come on in guys, let's get this done quickly." He yawned again as the officers walked slowly around the room, checking it out.

"Oh, are you two in some kind of a hurry?" Davenport asked snidely, standing beside the door in a military stance. "Planning on leaving anytime soon?"

"Yeah," Hutch replied, obviously half asleep and in a bad mood. "I've got to go and buy some more clothes so they can be stolen again. It's my goal in life to clothe the world's naked and I'm now working on housing the homeless," he finished sarcastically.

Starsky elbowed him, satisfied with the grunt that Hutch got the message. "Okay, what's going on?" He asked the two uniformed men, noting the serious stance they had taken. "You aren't acting like you're here to take a report on a theft."

"You had a theft?" Martin asked, finishing his visual sweep of the room. "When was this?"

"Yes, a theft," Hutch replied impatiently. "First my clothes were stolen, then our picnic table was stolen, then we come back from an evening out and our camper and truck are missing. I would think we could find a theft in there somewhere."

"Will you cool it?" Starsky whispered to Hutch. "I just want to get this over with." He turned to the two Sheriff's Deputies. "We turned in a report with the management this morning about our missing camper and truck. Isn't that what you're here for, to fill out the report?"

Starsky watched as the Deputies gave each other a long look. He could feel Hutch tense beside him as he too caught the signs of trouble.

"I'll go check," Deputy Davenport said, leaving his post at the door to go to their squad car.

The three men were silent while Davenport was gone. Starsky knew from the signs that something big was going on and they would get little information until the Deputies had had their say. A couple of minutes later Davenport returned, shaking his head.

"It's checked out, Gus," Davenport said to his partner. "A report from Park Management came in early this morning reporting a trailer theft and asking for a report to be made." He shrugged. "It was still on the list to be done."

"What's going on? I can tell you're not here for the camper theft, so why the visit?" Starsky watched both men closely.

"I think we'll start from scratch here," Martin said. "Could I see some ID please?"

Both Starsky and Hutch pulled out wallets and badge cases, seeing the surprised look as both Deputies studied their department ID.

"Here on a case, gentlemen?" Davenport asked casually, with a slight sneer to his voice. "You know you have no jurisdiction here."

"No," Hutch answered, rubbing tiredly at his face. "My partner and I are here on vacation. We're off duty and injured. We're supposed to be recuperating and we've had one hassle after another ever since we got that stupid camper."

"So, one, or both of you, owns this camper?" Martin asked, all business.

_ So, no answers until we get this done_. Starsky knew the routine. He and Hutch being cops apparently didn't guarantee them any privileges. "A friend of ours rented it to us. A friend of his owns it, but was in some kinda accident and couldn't use it. He gave our friend permission to rent it out, along with the reservation to this place."

"You know this for a fact, or just going on his say so?" Davenport queried.

"We trust him," Starsky answered patiently. "He knows we're cops. He's not stupid enough to knowingly slip us hot merchandise." _Well, not on purpose anyway_, Starsky amended silently.

"What are your injuries?" Davenport continued the questioning, visually checking them both over. "You both look pretty healthy to me."

"His arm," Hutch replied pointing to the obvious bruises on Starsky's wrist and arm, "and my foot. Need to see that too?" He rolled his eyes at both Deputies' nods and pulled off the covering sock. "There, happy now?"

"When was the last time you saw the camper in question?" Martin asked.

Starsky looked at Hutch and shrugged. "About 10 p.m. or so last night. We had dates that picked us up around that time. We locked up the camper and walked to a beach convention."

"When did you notice it was missing?" Davenport questioned.

"I noticed about six am.," Starsky replied. "I walked my date home and then came up on an empty lot." He nodded toward Hutch. "Hutch showed up soon after that."

"So you both have alibis for the entire night?" Martin asked, watching them both closely.

Starsky felt a sudden chill, as if he knew what was coming. _Something nasty_, he knew. "I do," Starsky said quietly, wishing now that he and Tina hadn't lost sight of the others. "We stayed with the convention until it closed down around four am. Then we walked back with another group and got into a conversation with some pre-dawn fishermen. I walked my date back to her cabin and left her about 5:30 am."

"My date and I drifted off about 2 am or so," Hutch added quietly, suddenly serious. "There's a rock outcropping a few minutes hike away from the convention that faces away from the lake and the bonfire. We wanted to see the stars. We were alone until sometime near 5:30 after watching the sun rise."

"You went hiking, on **that** foot?" Davenport asked, unconvinced. "And you just counted stars and watched the sun come up? Doesn't sound like much of a date to me."

Davenport's snide remark set Starsky's teeth on edge and even Martin sent him a warning glance.

"**Some** company is worth the extra effort," Hutch responded coolly, danger in his voice. "And my date went just fine, thank you."

"We'll need the names of your dates and the name and location of the man who rented you the camper and truck," Martin requested.

The men supplied the names and locations the two Deputies requested.

"Now that you know who we are and that we have alibis, can you tell us what all this is about?" Starsky asked impatiently. "It's obvious that we don't know what's going on here, other than it has something to do with our rented truck and camper."

"If you two need to make some arrangements to stay for awhile, you'd better make them now. We will want you to stay in the area until further notice." Martin handed them back their wallets and badge cases. "You might want to call your Captain to let him know what's going on here."

"Our Captain **is** here," Hutch answered with barely withheld frustration, "and we can't tell him what we don't know. What's going on and what does it have to do with us?"

Both Deputies exchanged glances and Martin shrugged.

"A logging crew found the camper abandoned early this morning out on a temporary road," Martin answered reluctantly. "Inside the camper were the reservation and signup forms with your names and lot number." He nodded at Hutch, watching both their reactions. "We contacted the RV park's manager and he directed us to this cabin. He didn't say anything about why you'd suddenly changed camp sites. Apparently he assumed we were here for the original theft complaint."

"Then what did bring you here?" Starsky prodded, tired of playing twenty questions. "I get the feeling you're not here for some illegal trailer dumping."

"For the dead body found bound and gagged inside," Davenport growled.

AAAAA

Clothes shopping forgotten, the two detectives were given a ride down to the Dobey trailer, but the Dobeys were nowhere to be found. Leaving a message tucked into the door to contact the Sheriff's office in Peakness, the two Metro detectives were given clearance to be brought to the location of the camper and body.

By his newfound silence, Hutch gathered that Deputy Davenport was not pleased with their inclusion in this case.

_ It's not like we asked for any of this_, he thought grumpily. He felt tired and mean, sitting in back of the Sheriff's car with Starsky. He sat quietly and watched the passing scenery as his partner and Deputy Martin carried on polite conversation. He was glad that one of them was up to being nice and he was more than happy to let Starsky be the good guy today. There wasn't much to talk about except for the case and the two Deputies were clearly not the first on the scene.

The Sheriff's vehicle took them about 10 miles further up the mountain and down various side roads, taking them further and further up into the wilderness. Then, at one junction they came upon a graveled road blocked off by another Sheriff's vehicle. After a quick conversation, the vehicle that carried the two detectives was allowed to pass. A few minutes drive up the logging road Hutch caught sight of the battered silver camper, lying on its side in a log and branch strewn ditch on one side of the road.

It was surrounded by police tape, including part of the roadway. There were five or six Sheriff's vehicles guarding the area and all the busy activity of any homicide lab and Forensic team.

It wasn't until now that Hutch really felt that there had been a murder and this wasn't just another hurdle to an unplanned vacation. _Better cut the self pity, Hutchinson_, he thought a little shamefully. _Someone just died here. Pay attention and have some respect. _He got out of the Sheriff's vehicle in a much more serious mood than he had started out in.

Deputy Denton walked with them over to what was obviously the command center of the investigation and he introduced the two detectives to his superior officer, Sheriff McKracken.

"Gentlemen," Sheriff McKracken began, "wish we could have met under better circumstances. But first things first. Can you visually identify your missing trailer?"

"Yes," Starsky replied with a sigh, walking closer to the roped off area. "Even from here. We both got a real close look at the scratches on it. It's our camper."

"What about the body?" Hutch asked, feeling a prickle along his spine. Can you tell us anything about it?" _Why do I feel like I really don't want to know?_

Sheriff McKracken was silent for a moment, studying the two detectives, obviously weighing his options. He gave them a shrug. "It's an adult male, probably in his late thirties. The truck driver that spotted the camper says that the door was unlatched when he went to check it out. The man was found dead inside, ankles and wrists tied with nylon cord and his mouth taped with duct tape. Forensics says the only visible injury at first examination was a severe blow to the back of his head. We don't know yet if he sustained the injury when the camper overturned or from some other source."

Hutch looked toward Starsky, curious to see if the description meant anything to him. His friend just looked back with the same question.

"Could we get a look at the body?" Starsky asked the Deputies politely.

Martin and Davenport waited until McKracken nodded his consent. Even now a Forensic team was hauling a body bag up and out of the open door of the tilted camper. It was obviously going to be a tight fit for the Forensic team, because of the smallness of the camper and the mess of overturned items. Hutch didn't envy them the job.

_ Well, I guess I can give up on any hope of using that new fishing equipment_, Hutch thought with a sigh. It wasn't as fancy or expensive as the equipment that Starsky had let the fish have awhile ago, but he had been looking forward to trying it out. _Our stuff might as well be gone for good. Even if they get everything figured out tomorrow, we'd still wouldn't get our stuff back from Evidence for months._

With the help of several volunteers, the body bag was angled out and laid heavily upon the coroner's stretcher. Both detectives were escorted closer and a Forensic team member zipped open the head of the bag and stepped back to let them look.

_ Aww, man_, Hutch sighed heavily. "It's a guy from the convention last night."

"Who?" McKenzie questioned sharply. "Do you know his name?"

"Richard," Starsky answered solemnly. "I was introduced to him last night at the ESPRIT convention. But I don't think I heard his last name."

McKenzie nodded to the technician who re-zipped the body bag and moved the stretcher away.

"I think it would help us all if you could tell us about this convention you two attended last night." Davenport said kindly.

Hutch knew Starsky's morose expression must be mirrored on his own face. _We just can't seem to get away from it, the death and destruction, _he thought with a nod toward his partner, who shrugged soberly and started back to McKenzie's vehicle. _We always end up dragging everyone into it with us._

AAAAA

They were driven down to the Sheriff's building and taken to different rooms to have their statements recorded. The report had come down quickly that the corpse in the camper was one Richard Drey from San Francisco. Reports were being made to the authorities there and any information they had would come in its own good time.

Starsky dictated his evening slowly, sipping his coffee and waiting for the rookie to catch up. He winced as his stomach rumbled. _They should have let me just type it out_, he thought sourly, taking another sip to placate his empty stomach. _Too bad they don't get busy enough up here to need stenographers. I bet I could write faster than this guy when I was in kindergarten._

The rookie looked fairly fresh to Starsky, still at the stage where he needed to gain valuable experience in taking statements, even it was under the tutelage of a bored looking partner. Starsky hadn't actually been here very long, but the wheels in this judicial area moved slowly and Starsky wanted his lunch. Besides, there wasn't much he could tell either one of them.

He and Tina had talked to a lot of people, but mostly they had just camped out along the bonfire. They had taken a leisurely stroll along the lake shoreline to join a group here and there talking or singing. He and Tina had never been out of view except for about a half hour on their way up to Tina's cabin. Then he'd been alone on the trail back to his and his partner's lot.

His first meeting with Richard had been the only time he'd been close enough to talk with the man. Starsky hadn't noticed anything unusual about him at the time. He had been quiet during the discussion and hadn't seemed very interested. Starsky hadn't noticed him at all the rest of the evening.

"Would you like to add anything to your statement, Sir?" the rookie asked after laboriously copying down Starsky's last sentence.

"No, I think that'll do it," he replied, stomach once again protesting.

"Well, then let me get this typed up and ready for your signature." The rookie was out the door like a shot, leaving Starsky with the bored partner. He had to think a moment to dredge up the officer's name.

"Hey, Osborn, do you think you guys could trust me enough to get some lunch and come back?" he asked, wondering if Hutch would be ready. His watch said it was just after 2 p.m..

Osborn stretched and shrugged. "Give the kid about fifteen minutes, then you can leave for the afternoon. He may be slow with a pen, but he's a whiz with a typewriter."

"Lucky kid. Anywhere I can pick up a car for awhile?" Starsky wasn't holding out any hope for getting the truck back. Even if they did, it would probably be kept for evidence until the owner could come up and collect it himself.

Osborn looked thoughtful for a moment. "Davidson's Garage usually has some loaners. He'll give you a fair deal and tow it away himself if you get stuck anywhere. And Angel's Diner may be small, but it's the best around." Osborn smiled. "That is, unless you like the fast food or the commercial stops we've got on the main strip. But they'll cost you an arm and a leg."

"As long as it won't kill me, Angel's will be fine," Starsky replied with a friendly smile. "And I kinda like the homey places. What's their specialty?"

"Well, ask the waitress what Angel's specialty of the day is, then don't order it." Osborn chuckled. "Angel runs the place and she only cooks one course a day. It's her husband George who's the real cook. Anything he cooks is great. But Angel's goal is to be a great chef and you never know what she's going to put in her dishes."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Here you go!" the rookie burst into the room with the finished form. Waving it as if a flag at the finish line. "See, Osborn? A two page, full statement with double carbon copies..." the rookie checked his watch, "...in 10 minutes flat."

Starsky smiled with amusement at the young man's enthusiasm until he got a look at the statement. It was perfect. Starsky nodded toward Osborn's inquiring glance. "It looks fine to me," he answered.

"You know, Gary," Osborn drawled, pulling a ten out of his wallet and handing it over to the rookie. "All you're going to impress McKracken with is how good a secretary you'll make after he busts you for making your first mistake. You'd better watch it if you want to serve out your career in a car and not behind a desk."

"Well, we'll see when the time comes.," the young deputy replied with a smug smile. "A least I type can type better with my toes than you can with two fingers."

Starsky smiled to himself at the exchange and signed the statement_. Finally!_ _Time to get some food!_

Hutch wasn't done with his statement yet, so he left him a note, said his good-byes and headed down the street to Angel's Diner. He was hoping that once he got some food into himself he would think up a solution to this case and get back to having some time off.

The diner felt like a bit of home to him as soon as he walked in. The building looked to have been built for anything but serving food, with odd lines and angles. There were no booths or counters, only a scant dozen mis-matched tables and an old cash register on a chipped glass showcase by the door. A large and over-used blackboard hung crookedly on the back wall, proclaiming the standard fare for the week. But even after 2 p.m. the tables were half full, which was a good sign in Starsky's book.

The teenage waitress stirred from her obviously bored perch at a front window to recommend the beef stew. With some prodding she finally admitted that it was Angel's special for the day and there was still plenty of it left. Starsky, knowing a good tip when he heard one, steered clear of the stew and ordered the fried chicken after being assured that it was up and ready.

True to her word, the chicken appeared and Starsky was soon appeasing his gnawing hunger. He had just gotten his first wind when he saw his tall, blond partner make his uncertain way into the diner. Hutch plopped himself tiredly into the opposite seat.

"Can you believe all this?" Hutch asked with exasperation as he eyed the menu. Starsky knew it wasn't the food Hutch was referring to. "I think we should have stayed home and caught up on that soap opera you were getting fond of."

"Nah. Angie and Ted were gonna break up and I didn't want to stick around to see that." He smiled around a piece of chicken. "So, did they let slip any theories on this case?"

"Nope. It's too early for them to have anything yet, but I'm sure it's not for trying." Hutch waved towards the waitress, gaining her reluctant attention. "They don't get too many murders around here, so they're pulling in all their spare men."

The waitress stopped by the table, obviously wishing she were someplace else. "Watcha' want? We've got lots of beef stew."

"I'll have the stew," Hutch said to the teenager, barely looking at the girl. "But I don't expect too much," he told Starsky with a shrug.

"No, he won't. He wants the chicken," Starsky interjected as an aside to the waitress, following Hutch's thought. "It's just too big. They may have more people to throw in-"

"The stew," Hutch said to the confused girl, barely sparing her a second glance. "But the transients in the area won't sit still long enough to give them the time of day, let alone what the Sheriff's department really needs, which is-"

"The chicken," Starsky interjected quickly to the scribbling waitress. He vaguely registered her glare as he turned back to Hutch. "A thorough grilling. That makes a long list considering all the attendees to last night's convention, not to mention anyone just hanging around."

"The stew," Hutch vaguely told the glaring waitress. "And add to that one beer-leaking mystery camper and they've got too much on their plate to deal with. I think it's time we got Huggy here." Hutch suddenly seemed to realize that the waitress was still there, glaring at them both. "What?" he asked her with exasperation.

"Chicken," Starsky told the girl firmly, but with his most charming smile. "And he wants the baked potato, not the fries, and green beans."

"With milk," Hutch added distractedly, eyes focused on a distant wall. "Huggy **must** know something about that tin can that can help. At least it's the only lead I can think of that we'd have a stab at. You can bet McKracken won't let us dig into this any deeper than he has too."

Starsky hid a smile as the waitress all but stomped away, muttering under her breath about how weirdos were always bad tippers. "Well, I've got a line on a place we might be able to rent a car. And if you don't mind, I'd like to use those gift certificates we got from the RV office. I don't know about you, but I'd like a change of clothes for this afternoon. I'm hoping that Tina will still talk to me after the Sheriff's department gets through taking her statement." He turned back to his meal, determined to get full while he had a chance.

Hutch sighed and snagged one of Starsky's fries. "I don't think either one of the girls is going to hold this against us, Starsk." Hutch chewed thoughtfully. "And if they do blame us for some strange reason, there's nothing we can do about it anyway."

Both men were startled as a full plate was suddenly plopped down in front of Hutch. The teenager was more careful with Hutch's milk, but made a quick get-away.

"What's her problem?" Hutch asked with disgust, eyeing his plate of fried chicken. "I didn't order this. Did I?"

"Yes, you did," Starsky replied firmly. "Will you eat already? We've got shopping to do.

AAAAA

The two finished with their late lunch, leaving a minimal tip for the moody waitress. They walked down to the garage and while Starsky haggled with the garage owner Hutch took advantage of a payphone and a pocketful of change to try to contact Huggy.

Much to Starsky's chagrin, the only thing Davidson's Garage had left was an early model station wagon. But this time he insisted on driving and Hutch didn't argue too much, just reported that Huggy was out, and he'd left the RV park's office number for a call-back. Their next stop was the department store for new clothing and the rest of the afternoon was spent in a laudrymat and grocery store in Peakness.

Starsky felt relieved to be behind the wheel and it didn't seem as if his arm and hand would be too stressed as long as he favored it while driving.

_ Now if the weather just holds out_, he thought hopefully, _we can enjoy the rest of this week. This murder really doesn't have anything to do with us, so maybe we ought to just hang around and let the Sheriff's Department worry about it._

They came up to the area for the RV park and pulled by the main office, noticing the full row of campers leaving and arriving. Just beyond the office and management buildings was a road marked 'private'. While not graveled like the common area, it was a well-maintained dirt road, shaded from the main campground by a forest denser than it was in the lower areas.

It seemed like a whole different world up here. The roadway was a large loop, with one-room cabins nestled off to the side at discreet distances. Each cabin was a basic affair, reminiscent of Dobey's building at Pine Lake, but with only one open room with a small sink, refrigerator and double beds. While there were no phones or fireplaces, there was a nice picnic area to the side of each cabin, with a brick bar-be-que grill and picnic table. There were quiet and well-worn trails that led down to the more common and lake areas.

While the area was a lot more private than their former lot, and the room larger and with more conveniences than the elderly camper, Starsky did have to admit that it felt more like an Overnight Inn than really being in the woods.

_ It's just too bad we didn't get a room on the other end of the loop_, he thought. Tina and Gina had separate cabins, on the other end of the road from theirs. Their uncle always saved them the same two cabins for the summer season, whether the girls were able to plan on the trip or not. _We were lucky that Sid Calbert had this cabin free. Otherwise we'd have had to find a motel in Peakness and hang around there. Which is strange for this time of year_, Starsky mused_. I wonder if the girls had anything to do with us getting this place?_

They had passed three cabins before Starsky pulled in front of theirs.

"Looks like we're pretty popular," Hutch commented as Starsky turned off the motor. "We've had some company."

Starsky glanced at the door as he got out. There were two notes folded and stuffed into the doorjamb. "Who're they from?" he asked, unlocking the back of the station wagon to unpack as Hutch retrieved the notes.

"One is from Gina. She said the ESPRIT meeting is still on and we can meet them there for dinner. It's a pot-luck tonight and will be at 6 p.m." Hutch shrugged. "I guess we're still on their good sides." He was silent for a moment, reading the second message. "Dobey was here. Apparently he's beaten us to the punch and called Huggy. He wants us to stay put until he can catch up."

"As long as he gives me time for a shower and some clean clothes, I'll be glad to wait for him."

"Hey, **I** get first dibs. You went first last night," Hutch protested.

"Sorry, no prisoners," Starsky replied firmly.

Starsky brought in a load of groceries and Hutch helped him with that and the laundry. But it soon turned into a race and Hutch found himself the last one dashing for the shower and missing it by the slam of a door, the click of a lock and an evil chuckle from the other side.

Resigned to his fate Hutch unpacked the groceries and put his new, clean laundry carefully away in the dresser provided. He pondered what they should bring to the pot-luck and wondered if they could pick up some interesting gossip while they were there.

Starsky finally emerged from a cloud of steam, humming some commercial under his breath. Hutch noticed that his partner's bruises were looking better, and even after driving all the way back his arm and shoulder still moved freely, although he still favored his left hand and wrist.

"Any hot water left?" he asked his soggy friend.

"Nope, none what-so-ever," Starsky replied happily, carefully scrubbing himself dry with his right hand. "But you could always give it a try for yourself and find out."

"No, thank you," Hutch replied with an exaggerated sigh, "I'll give it a few extra minutes, if you don't mind. I think you've got the walls raining in there." He threw himself down on his newly made bed, stretching out until his joints popped. "What do we want to bring to the pot-luck tonight?"

Starsky picked through his new clothing and studied each carefully. "No idea. But I think one of us ought to run down to the Dobey's and see if we can catch up with him. Edith might be there and she'll know where he is."

"Why not just wait here?" Hutch asked lazily, wishing he'd had more shut-eye and that his foot would quit aching.

"'Cause there's no telling when Dobey'll come by to check the cabin and I'd like to **get **to that pot-luck tonight, with some date other than **you** if at all possible," Starsky said with a mock grimace, making sure to aim it Hutch's way "With **that** kind of attitude, young man, you'll be lucky to find yourself with **any** date at all," Hutch replied casually. "Don't burn your bridges behind you, kid, or you'll have to go stag."

"Promises, promises," Starsky muttered. He finally quit picking through the mass of clothing on his rumpled bed, settling on a jeans outfit. "I don't know how long the girls'll wait on us. I'm gonna make a trip on down to Dobey's RV, see if Edith or his truck is there. Then I'll run on by the office and see if Diane has called about Huggy."

"So why don't you take the car? Getting down there and back is going to take you an hour at least. Dobey'll have your hide if we have to sit and wait on you here."

"Nah. Dobey'll see the car and know that someone's here." Starsky finished dressing and tossed Hutch the car keys which he stuffed in his pocket. "You keep that foot up for awhile. You'll probably need it later. And see if you can come up with something for dinner," Starsky said with a smile. "Nothing fancy, just enough to impress." And with that he was out the door.

"Lazy ass," Hutch muttered as Starsky shut the door. He was tempted to just lay there and doze for a few minutes. The warm bit of afternoon light that fell across him felt good. But the shower and clean clothes called to him invitingly, so he gave in with little regret. He actually found himself in luck, as Starsky left just enough hot water for a tepid shower, which was all he really wanted anyway.

_ It never fails_, he reflected with a sigh, feeling the cooling water pool and lap around his bruised foot. _As long as I'm moving and active, it just aches a little. But let me put it up, or take a break and it hurts worse than walking on it. _He gingerly stretched toes, arched sore muscles and stretched tendons, very glad that nothing had been broken.

Feeling invigorated, he broke out into a few verses of 'Black Bean Soup' at full voice, enjoying the chance to cut loose in private. He stayed in longer than he usually did, enjoying the privacy of the shower over the public ones more than he realized. _I guess we came out ahead by having the camper stolen. But I would have been happier with a tent in the middle of nowhere._

Finally, with all warmth gone from the spray, Hutch stepped gingerly out of the shower to avoid slipping and grabbed the nearest towel.

Suddenly, with a crack of thunder and explosion of wood, Hutch was slammed by the bursting door, sending the stunned detective tumbling back into a corner of the bathroom. As if in slow motion, he felt himself falling to the floor and made a wild grab at the towel rack, missing it by inches. With towel and balance lost he landed with a bone-jarring thud on his rear.

The first thing he noticed when time reverted to normal was the barrel end of a shaky .48 pointed at his head. He held himself still, forced his eyes past the barrel to the nervous gunman.

_ Charley Lopez! _he thought in surprise. _What the hell...?_

"Hey, Charley, what gives?" Hutch asked quietly, keeping his voice lower and calmer than he actually felt. He was too far away to make a grab for the gun and any move might scare the shaking man into pulling the trigger.

"I n-n-need the car k-k-keys," Charley stammered, looking wild-eyed and confused, gun wavering in his grasp. He was trail-worn and dirty, pale with panic and trembling.

Hutch took quick inventory of his own condition. _Naked, sore foot, sprained wrist, bruised elbows, no gun or phone in the cabin, but with one partner on the way home... _"Okay," Hutch replied amicably. "They're in my pants pockets." _No use playing the hero here..._ But he shifted slightly, freezing at Charley's reaction.

"**Don't** move!" Charley shouted, almost hysterically, gun steadying to line up on Hutch's middle. "Laura! Th-the pants pocket!"

Hutch listened carefully, hearing a lighter tread of footsteps moving around behind the gunman. _One female_, Hutch catalogued quickly, wishing he hadn't been so loud in the shower. _One female and one kid on the edge_. He hadn't been able to move much, but didn't want to know the odds of the kid twitching the trigger by accident.

"It's, okay, kid," Hutch answered soothingly. "You can take whatever you want. I'll just sit here and wait."

"I can't **find** them, Charley!" a feminine voice, tinged with anger and frustration, yelled to the young man,. "They're not **here**!"

Charley looked confused for a moment, then refocused on Hutch. "You find them for us. Then we can get out of here." He took a step back into the room, giving Hutch room to pick himself up off the floor.

Making a slight gesture toward the towel, he waited until Charley realized what he was asking and nodded. Hutch wrapped the towel around himself slowly, more to give himself time to think than for any modest concern. He could see that although the bathroom door hadn't been locked, the hinges were damaged when it had been kicked open.

_ Can't depend on barricading myself in here, even if the walls weren't too thin to stop bullets_. _Better just play along and see what I can learn._

Modestly covered, he waited as Charley backed farther into the cabin, catching a glimpse of the frantic girl behind him who was digging through all the new clothing on Starsky's bed, trying to find the pocket with the car keys. She barely spared him a glance, but Hutch recognized her.

_ She was at the convention the other night,_ Hutch thought without much surprise. _She was with Charley._

The girl was as young as Charley and her hazel eyes, brown hair and tilted nose would have reminded Hutch of a younger Vanessa, if she hadn't been just as dirty and trial torn as Charley was. _They've been roughing it for awhile_. Hutch noticed the scratches on the girl's arms as she frantically swept through the clothes pile. _And they're both scared as hell..._

"Get th-the keys!" Charley yelled at him, waving him over to the bed with the barrel of the .48.

"Okay, Charley, okay." Hutch waved an arm toward his bed, seeing his worn jeans in a lump on the floor. _She must have knocked them off by accident. _"I threw them on my friend's bed. They must have fallen off." He nodded toward his bed and waited until given the nod to continue. Switching his bed with Starsky's might give him a chance to leave some clues if things went wrong. Starsky would spot them right away.

Hutch had only taken a step when the girl rushed in front of him and grabbed the jeans off the floor, pulling out his keys, along with his wallet and badge case. Hutch continued his forward movement, slowly sitting on the edge of his bed. "What's the problem Charley?" Hutch asked calmly. "Is this about the camper?"

Charley took a big, gasping breath, as if he were ready to collapse. "Y-yeah, they found him? I wanted to call but-"

"Let's **go, **Charley," the girl interrupted sharply. "I've **got** the keys, we've gotta get out of here before they find us."

Suddenly Hutch got the feeling that Charley was on the edge here, not really wanting to do what he was doing. "Listen, Charley, whatever happened I can help you. You don't need to run..."

"Charley!" the girl was visibly mad now, walking up to Charley and placing a hand on his arm. "Don't listen to him, he's just another one of those men I told you about. Don't let them get me, Charley, you **know** what they'll do to me!" Suddenly she broke into tears, gasping as Charley put a sudden arm around her and pulled her close.

"It's okay, Laura," he murmured soothingly, obviously gathering strength from being her protector. But he was also able to keep the wavering gun on Hutch, eyes never leaving the detective. "Listen, umm... What's your name?"

"Ken. Ken Hutchinson. I met you last night, remember? At the bonfire?" Hutch replied easily, watching as the girl recovered enough in her boyfriend's arms to glare at the detective. "Remember, Gina and Tina introduced me." He waited a moment to make sure that Charley was at least thinking clear enough to remember. "I'm a cop. I can help you with whatever your problem is. If you just let me..."

"**No**," Laura interrupted quickly. "I **told** you they had the whole Sheriff's department in on this. He's probably in their pay too. We can't trust anyone. I told you about that place we can hide out for a few days and I can call my father's people." Laura lowered her voice, rubbing Charley's back in a calming gesture. "They've got food here, Charley, we can take it and the car and hole up like I told you. But if we wait too long they'll find us." She sobbed again, folding herself into her boyfriend's embrace.

"Okay, baby." Charley calmed visibly, looking more determined. "Let's do it."

Laura was off like a shot, grabbing the empty boxes that the two detectives had just unpacked and started loading them with whatever groceries she could grab.

The frightened kid never took his eyes off of Hutch, but waved his gun toward the pile of clothes. "Quiet!" he ordered as Hutch opened his mouth to speak.

Laura stopped packing, giving her companion a menacing look he didn't see, but one that made Hutch's skin crawl. "We've gotta get rid of him," she said dangerously. "We need a head start. If we leave him here he'll tell everyone what car we've got. They'll find us that way."

"What do we do?" Charley asked her in confusion. "We can't kill him or anything."

Laura trotted over to the pile of clothing on the twin bed and grabbed a pair of Starsky's new summer shorts and a new undershirt still in its package. "These yours?" She held them up in front of Hutch.

"Yeah," Hutch lied easily. "Mind if I have some underwear too?"

Laura shrugged and opened up a new package, tossing the pair to Hutch along with the undershirt and shorts. "Watch him close, Charley. I'll get the food."

Charley backed up a respectable distance, letting Hutch get dressed without a chance to jump him.

The new undershirt and underwear fitted well enough, although they weren't exactly Hutch's size. But the shorts were almost, but not quite, too loose. _Well, that's one good reason for Starsk to wear them skin tight, at least I can wear them in a pinch. But how to warn him before he walks in on us? _He wished he still had his watch on, as he had no real idea how long his partner had been gone.

As soon as Hutch was dressed Charley waved him back to sitting on the bed. The blond purposefully left his wet towel on it. Laura had filled one box and dashed over to the small hotel-like desk, throwing open the drawers. "We've got to get out of here, but we've got to buy some time. He's got to leave a note so his friend won't know he's missing. The guy'll think **he **took the car and no one will be looking for it." She grabbed some stationary and a pencil, tossing it in the detective's direction. "Write."

Hutch picked the writing supplies up from the bed_. Charley will shoot me out of fear, or she'll shoot me out of necessity_, he thought quickly. _Better not take too long with this. _He wrote quickly, folding the paper and addressing it.

Laura all but snatched it out of his hands and unfolded it, reading it out loud. "Davey, I've got to pick up some things for tonight and I'll pick up Tina on the way back. Don't wait up. Kenny." Laura gave it a second search, then folded it back. "It sounds okay. Put it where he'll find it." She tossed it back on the bed and waited as Hutch placed it on his own pillow.

Her next trip was to the closet and she handed Charley an old wire hanger. "We've got to get out of here, **now**. Give me the gun and use this to tie his hands behind his back."

Charley docilely handed over the gun and worked the twisted top of the hanger loose. Working carefully behind the detective, Charley wound the old wire firmly around Hutch's crossed wrists, twisting the ends back together. He had done a good job and Hutch could feel that there was no play at all in the almost too-tight wire.

"Shoes?" Hutch asked hopefully, watching Laura and the gun carefully. He had watched her while Charley tied his wrists and Hutch was under no illusion that the smaller body didn't hold the bigger brains and stronger will of his two captors.

_ She's running this thing, whatever it is. She won't hesitate to pull that trigger on me and even her boyfriend if she thinks it's necessary. _Hutch had seen cold blooded killers before and Laura looked back at him with their eyes. _So what is she doing with him and what does this have to do with Richard Drey's death?_

"No," she replied quickly to Hutch. "Charley, take a tea towel and gag him." Her companion complied quickly, pulling the towel roughly to tie it behind Hutch's head.

"Now check to make sure the trail is clear and open the station wagon doors."

"It's clear," Charley yelled from the porch.

"You," She waved Hutch towards the door, "will get in the back seat, on the floor as soon as it's open. Make one sound and I'll kill you."

Hutch walked slowly toward the open door of the car, careful of his bare feet and reluctantly sat in the rear passenger seat. By the waving of the gun, he was ordered onto his stomach in the floorboard of the station wagon, falling on his face helplessly as he assumed the awkward position. He winced at the carpet burn on his nose and felt a blanket thrown over him, hiding him from view.

The door was slammed shut and Hutch felt a moment of panic as he was suddenly crushed from above. _Damn!_ _They're folding the seat down! _Hutch realized, squirming painfully in his now confined space. If he had had any hopes of springing to his freedom, they were gone now. He was barely able to breathe and his body ached with the weight of the seat on top of him. He could hear the car start up and feel the vibrations of the engine through the car flooring_. _

_ Why do I have a feeling they're going to take the scenic route? _Hutch thought in resignation. He wondered how long it would take Starsky to discover he was missing. _Call out the bloodhounds, buddy, I think I'm going to get lost in these woods._


	7. Chapter 7

AAAAA

Dave Starsky made good time down to the lower part of the RV park, barely sparing a look at their empty space as he walked to the Dobey's lot.

_ I can't believe we've been here less than two days and we're already in the middle of a mess. _He sighed and shook his head as he speeded up his pace. _A guy could think he was cursed or somethin'. _He smiled at a suddenly twisted thought_. Not that we haven't been cursed soundly in our time, by a certain Captain. Maybe we can blame it on him._

But the Dobey truck was gone and a quick rap at the RV door showed it was as empty as it looked.

_ Well, now to the main office to see if we have any mail. And if I'm lucky, maybe I can pass a minute with a beautiful lady._

His trek up to the main office was uneventful and he found no messages waiting for either of them. Sid Calbert was busy and a young man Starsky recognized as Gina and Tina's brother, Robert, was there helping him at the counter. Starsky begged a phone from him and was shown down the corridor into Sid's office.

After a call to Information for the Sheriff's office in Peakness, Starsky was connected to the receptionist. "This is Detective Sergeant David Starsky. Could you please put me in touch with Deputies Davenport, Osborn, Martin or Sheriff McKracken?"

"Yes, sir, just one moment."

The 'one' moment turned into five, then ten as Starsky drummed his fingers impatiently. _One more minute..._

"Starsky!" A bellow boomed in his ear, making the detective jump. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Cap'n. Guess you've heard the good news about our camper. I've got a call in to Huggy and-"

"I've talked to him already," Dobey interrupted gruffly. "Starsky this is getting to be a complicated situation and I want you and Hutch to come down to the Sheriff's Department. You two need to be brought up to speed on this. You have a car?"

"Sure," Starsky asked, wondering what was going down. He could hear the strain in Dobey's voice. "We'll be there as soon as I get Hutch."

"Make it quick," Dobey answered shortly and hung up.

He glanced sadly at his watch. _Well, looks like we're going to miss the pot-luck tonight, unless we get a miracle in the next hour or so. And I don't think I'm going to hold my breath for any right now._

Starsky stopped to thank Sid for the use of the phone and left him a message to pass on to Gina and Tina. Sid assured him that the girls would understand and as far as he knew they would be at the meeting until it closed.

He walked briskly on the way back, not looking forward to telling his partner that their dinner dates were a sure miss. It took Starsky longer to walk back up the less used trail than it had for him to lope down it.

_ I gotta get more exercise_, he thought with chagrin as he found himself puffing away near the top of the trail. _Hutch'll never let me hear the end of it if he thinks I'm getting out of shape._

It wasn't until he rounded a corner and spotted the cabin that he noticed the station wagon was gone.

_ Damn, Hutch! _He thought in frustration. _Now Dobey's gonna have both our asses in a sling. _He quickly checked his watch again_. It's only been an hour and a half. What gives? _The cabin door was locked as expected, but as soon as Starsky swung the door open he froze.

_ It's wrong_. Starsky felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise as he surveyed the small cabin. His eyes swept the room, searching for something he felt would be obvious as soon as he saw it.

There were some groceries on the table. _Hutch fixing something for the pot-luck..._

His own bed was more of a mess than when he'd left it. Some of the store packages he hadn't opened yet were empty. He opened the drawers in his own dresser, not finding the missing items. _Hutch wouldn't borrow my stuff when he's got his own. _The tense feeling he had had on opening the door deepened.

Hutch's bed was made, with a wet towel left on the foot of it. Starsky walked over to touch it, finding it still damp. _Hutch wouldn't leave a wet towel on his bed. _It was then that he saw the folded note on his partner's pillow. He froze as he saw the name it was addressed with, a feeling of deep dread running through him.

"Davey," Starsky breathed not realizing he had said the word aloud. His name, but in a way he had never wanted to see it, written in Hutch's own handwriting. Their S.O.S. signal.

Captain Harold Dobey re-read the note that Starsky had handed him. There was no doubt by the way the man stood, tense and anxious, that the detective was taking this very seriously. He handed the note to a confused Sheriff McKracken. The Sheriff had accompanied him out to the cabin at the detective's troubled call. Dobey had been glad to see that McKracken had taken both him and his detective's claims seriously, sending his men out even before they had see the evidence of an abduction.

"I don't understand this," McKracken said with confusion. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with this note. And there are no signs of forced entry here detective. What if he's just out...?"

"Hutch ain't 'out'!" Starsky replied tightly, visibly pausing to regain control. "At least not on his own. And we both know that these locks are just good enough to keep out the wildlife." Starsky crossed his arms and strode purposefully back and forth, as if he were taking the tension out of a tightly coiled spring. "One, Hutch is neat, he wouldn't leave a wet towel on his bed. Two, the bathroom door isn't hanging on the frame right and it** was** when I left. Three, Hutch wouldn't borrow my clothes unless he was desperate, and he wasn't. Four, Hutch isn't wearin' the only pair of shoes he has left and five," the detective took a deep breath, nodding to the note in McKracken's hand, "Hutch **never** calls me Davey."

McKracken looked unconvinced. "I'd heard that was your name, detective."

"Yeah," Starsky said with a quick shrug. "When I was a kid. Hutch never calls me that, like I never call him Kenny. We don't use our first names. We just don't. The only way Hutch would call me Davey would be in an emergency. It's our S.O.S. signal that something's wrong."

"Starsky knows what he's talking about," Dobey told McKracken seriously. "Hutch is gone and with the truck being found-"

"The truck was found?" Starsky interrupted, eyes suddenly sharp on Dobey. "Where?"

"The truck was found about five miles up the mountain. Apparently it had transmission problems brought on by the loss of the camper and locked up. Whoever had it pushed it off into another ditch and covered it with brush. It would have been quite a walk in the dark, but they could have come across your cabin in the search for transportation," Dobey reported with a wary eye on his detective's reactions.

"There's more, detective," McKracken added. "We've got a missing persons report on a Laura Tarran this morning. She and her father are here at the ESPRIT convention. And she's not the only one missing. Charles Lopez, her boyfriend, is missing too."

"I met Charley last night," Starsky said in surprise. "This is what you wanted Hutch and I to come in for? What's the story?"

"Charles Lopez is the son of Michael Juan Lopez, the owner of some of the biggest citrus and vegetable farms in California." Dobey saw Starsky make the instant connection to an organized kidnapping. "He's worth millions. His son, Charles, is one of the supporters of ESPRIT and his father contributes a lot of money to it."

"So he and his girlfriend are both at the picnic, along with Richard Drey," Starsky resumed his pacing of the small room. "Richard turns up dead and Laura and Charley are missing. It's not hard to see a ransom demand must be on its way."

"We're waiting on that right now," McKracken responded. "Laura was here with her father Andrew Tarran. He's Michael Lopez's right hand man. She was staying with her father and Charley had his own camper. Mr. Tarran stormed Charley's camper early this morning, looking out for his daughter's virtue when she didn't return for the evening. By the time my men caught up with him to question him about the picnic and Richard Drey, the guy was just getting frightened at his daughter's absence."

"He's at the Sheriff's office now, calling in his boss," Dobey added. "We think that Charles, Richard and the girl were kidnapped on the way home from the picnic last night, stuffed in your camper and then moved out in it."

"So, both kids are worth money," Starsky said thoughtfully. "That figures. But if you're still waiting for a ransom note, how do you know they just didn't elope or somethin'. What puts them in the camper with Richard?"

"We've found Charley's car and camper keys in Richard's pocket," McKracken answered. "We're waiting on a ransom note and Tarran is calling in his boss. It looks like the kids were nabbed and Richard got in the middle of it in some way."

"Cause of death?" Starsky asked.

McKracken shrugged. "They're still working on the corpse. As far as we can tell it's still the same, a blow to the head. But what I'd like to know, Detective Starsky, is why they picked your camper and how they knew you'd have an alibi for almost the entire evening?" McKracken's voice had sharpened on the last question, meeting with an equally sharp gaze from the Metro detective. "You and your Captain will have to pardon me if I wonder about that a bit."

"Sheriff..." Dobey rumbled in annoyance.

"Listen, Sheriff," Starsky began angrily, "If there's something you want to know, then ask it! We don't have the time to walk on egg shells here. My partner's missing and whoever the killers or kidnappers are, they probably have him. Hutch and I don't have anything to do with whatever the setup was and we don't know anything. We can't just sit here!"

"We **have** men watching for the station wagon, detective." McKracken interrupted sharply. "And unless you can point me in the right direction for a search, then we're better off waiting for a ransom demand or someone spotting them by chance than to just go off in a random direction. They could be anywhere by now."

"He's right, Starsky," Dobey interjected gruffly before the detective could respond. "We can start with the camper. What did Huggy tell you about the camper when you rented it?" He watched his detective, know that whatever patience Starsky had would rapidly wear thin without his partner around. _Especially if it's Hutch he's looking for_, he thought with sympathy. _Time isn't going to make him any better to work with_.

Starsky finally sat down on one of the beds, hands braced on knees, deadly seriousness. "Hutch and I were arguing about where to go on vacation. We were at Huggy's and he said that he had a camper from a friend that he could rent out. Apparently the guy had planned this trip and couldn't make it, so it was free for the week. He didn't give any particulars." Starsky stopped suddenly, as if remembering something and Dobey felt himself the focus of dark blue eyes. "You said you'd already talked to him," he said, almost accusingly.

The Captain nodded. "I just wanted to see if what he told you differed from what he's told me. His story was that the camper and truck rig belong to Smithtown James."

"Smithtown?" Starsky replied in surprise. "No way would he have a camper. He's housebound,** never **goes outside. He's worse than Annie Oats."

"That's what I thought," Dobey replied dryly. "So I had the registration of the truck checked and it and the camper were reported stolen in San Francisco two years ago. If Smithtown had it, then it was for a setup of some sort."

"I appreciate the extra work, Captain Dobey," McKracken said with a touch of annoyance, "but you never did tell me who this Smithtown James is and why you believed the camper was a set up."

"Smithtown James is a treasure hunter," Starsky said. "He has a photographic memory, everything he's ever heard or seen he remembers. Anybody wants or needs anything, they call him and for a price he can arrange to get it or make it happen. But only by phone. He's friends with Huggy, the guy who rented us the camper."

"Smithtown never leaves his house," Dobey added. "He is a diagnosed agoraphobic and never comes into contact with anything he sets up. Until now."

"Is he dead?" Starsky asked in surprise. "'Cause that's the only way he'd come out of that rat hole."

"He's still at Memorial," Dobey replied gruffly. "He was beaten about three weeks ago and was in ICU for a week with massive internal injuries. His current lady-friend said that the only thing Smithtown was worried about was getting that camper up to this RV park. She didn't know why, but the guy seemed crazy about it so she gave Huggy permission to rent it out with the reservation."

"A set up." Starsky sighed and rubbed at his head. "Smithtown's job was to get that camper up here at this time, in that spot. That way the kidnappers wouldn't be seen leaving too early. They could come back to their own camp site after sneaking the kids out in the camper we used. Sounds like there must be quite a few people involved."

"So, they didn't realize that two cops had the camper?" McKracken ventured. "They probably just saw it in place and didn't realize it wasn't empty. The odds are that they're still here, with the ESPRIT convention, keeping us looking in the wrong directions."

"It would be the best way to get close to Charley, Laura and Richard." Starsky stood abruptly, resuming his tense pacing of the cabin. "They were there with friends, someone who could lure them to the camper, then they were taken. Either something went wrong and they killed Richard or he was killed when the camper hit the ditch. If it had been planned, they wouldn't have left the body and the camper in plain sight. Then they made it okay for awhile, but the truck locks up. So then they have to find new wheels..."

"And you two just happen to be in their path," McKracken finished seriously, watching the detective closely. "You know, it's funny how you two always seem to be in the middle of the action here, Detective Starsky."

Dobey felt his hackles rise at the implied accusation_. Not my men,_ he thought protectively. _Not these two_.

"Ain't it?" Starsky replied sarcastically. He walked up to McKracken, body tense with stress. "Well, Hutch and I have a habit of being where the action is. Dobey can tell you that. Do you think you can get past your doubts long enough to trust us?"

"On Dobey's say so? Maybe." McKracken replied seriously. "I hope you don't mind if I keep my options open for awhile, Officer."

"Well, I** do **say so," Dobey stated emphatically, his own nerves on the edge. McKracken wasn't helping anything with his innuendoes. "Sheriff, there is **no** way these two men are involved in **any **of this and you can trust both of them implicitly. Speculating on them as suspects is just going to waste **all** of our time."

McKracken was silent for a moment, but Dobey could tell he wasn't ready to close off any avenue of investigation. "I think we'd be better off waiting at the office for word. This cabin is too remote and we can't do anything further here, gentleman."

"Hutch might make it back here," Starsky said softy, obviously reluctant to leave the place where his partner disappeared. "There might be something I missed..."

"I can leave a man here with a radio unit, detective." McKracken put his Sheriff's hat back on and strode towards the door. "Let's go."

Dobey saw Starsky bristle at the abrupt order and placed a hand on the detective's shoulder. _We'll find him, Dave_, Dobey squeezed tense muscles. _We will. We have to._

AAAAA

Hutch didn't know how long he had been in the back of the station wagon when it finally stopped, but he was cramped and ached all over from the odd position he had been forced into. He had worked on the thick wire tying his wrists, but hadn't made any progress. He had even been unable to scrape the towel out of his mouth, so he tried to relax, saving up his strength for later, when an opening came.

_ I've got to get more sleep next time I go on vacation_, he thought with a sigh. _This quiet life is going to age me before my time._

He knew they had been on rough gravel roads for about half an hour, hearing the ping of the gravel and feeling the pits and ruts through to his bones. The car had stopped about an hour ago for a short time, then had started up again. Hutch could hear little from his position, but had heard 'phone'.

_ So, we're phoning for help,_ he mused. _Why do I have the feeling this isn't the kind of help I need right now?_

The car stopped suddenly and he once again heard voices, but was unable to make anything out. The doors banged twice as the two captors left. He tried once again to push the weight off of himself, almost managin to get a knee under him when a passenger door opened suddenly. He found himself squinting in the evening light.

"Time to move out, 'officer'." Laura was once again at the doorway with the gun. "Charley, you'd better pull him out of there."

_ I feel like a pretzel. _He winced, as he was pulled out. He was feeling too bruised and stiff to make a move and wasn't given any time to recuperate before Laura waved the gun in his direction again.

"Over there, Charley," She waved the gun towards the side of a small cabin. "We'll put him over in the woodbox."

"You sure there's room?" Charley asked, uncertainly.

"It's all we can do now," Laura answered sharply. "Come on, we've got to get him secure."

Charley stopped for a moment, staring at the girl, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across the his face.

_ Push it, Charley, push it! _he thought, willing the kid to take control of the situation. _Everything's wrong, Charley, find out what it is! _But he felt his heart fall with the helpless nod the kid finally gave to his accomplace.

"Let's go."

Hutch's arm was grabbed and he was pulled sharply towards the back of the cabin. He kept quiet, not wanting to say anything to the young man while Laura was around with the gun. _I've got to keep this nice and neat, _he thought tiredly. _Laura's the boss and it's obvious he won't go against her while she's around. _He knew the kid was still afraid and unsure of himself. _If I can just talk to him alone_! _He's got to have half a brain in there somewhere._

He stumbled, muscles and joints still stiff and foot throbbing with every step on the uneven, wild growth. He was quick to notice that Laura followed three step behind, not trusting her boyfriend with even this simple job.

This cabin was about the same size as the rented one, but where theirs had been in the middle of civilization, this had the look and feel of the deep forest. Even now Hutch could feel the deepening twilight cover the area as if he were in another world. _No close neighbors here_, he thought morosely. _But at least it's road accessible._

They walked through low brush around to the back of the cabin and his heart sank when he saw the woodbox. It was a small lean-to like room up against the cabin wall, built with small logs and no bigger than a large dog house. There was a plywood cover and a latch with a lock.

_ Okay, one good kick could loosen that latch easily enough. _He tried not to look as if he noticed it. _As long as I can get angled the right way..._

"All right, get him in there," Laura ordered sharply. "We've got to find some of my father's men. Then we'll be safe."


	8. Chapter 8

AAAAA

Starsky carefully nursed his coffee, rolling the half-empty cup between his palms and watching the murky liquid as it sloshed back and forth. It had been hot an hour ago, but was now tepid and uninteresting, although an observer would have thought it held his complete attention.

He was all ears now, in a room full of Sheriff's men and Federal Authorities. One person killed and three kidnapped tended to bring out law enforcement in force and the child of a millionaire demanded everyone's attention. One lone detective, out of his jurisdiction and unconnected with the area, was a liability in these parts. He was now little more than someone to placate and to set in a corner, out of the way.

_ At least they'll talk to Dobey,_ he mused tiredly. He had given up trying to accomplish anything, not sure of what he **could** do. Dobey was keeping his foot in the door, but only by professional courtesy.

_ If I can just get something to go on. Anything. I'm gonna go nuts just sittin' here..._ Starsky felt like his skin was crawling, as if he had to move or go crazy. Hutch was out there and here **he** was, sitting in a corner of the Sheriff's office, listening in on sessions that he had no say in_. It's __**my**__ partner out there, my friend, and I have nothing to do with it, _he thought bitterly. _I'm surprised they even told me about the damned ransom call_.

It had come in to the offices of Michael Lopez before he, Dobey and McKracken had arrived at the station. The kidnappers had called all the way in to Lopez's main office in San Francisco, demanding half a million dollars each for the return of Charles Lopez and his girlfriend Laura Tarran. Instructions for the delivery of the money would be called in tomorrow at noon.

The officers in the room had been solemn in relating the news to Dobey and his man. No mention had been made of a third person, let alone a missing cop. The all knew what that meant in most circumstances: there wasn't a living body left to make a demand for.

The news had hit Starsky hard, and he had fought to remain stoic. He was a cop, he had seen it happen before and wasn't under any illusions that his partner was immortal. But something inside him felt like broadcasting the news that his partner was still alive, no matter what the rest of them thought. He **knew** it. But he was also aware that his guts could tell him anything they wanted, and they could still be dead wrong.

The Sheriff's office had been a hotbed of activity since early that morning, and even more officials and agents had arrived since then. Andrew Tarran had been barricaded in one of the back offices, alternating between frantic calls to his boss and ranting about his daughter's safety. The Feds had arrived quickly and had taken over most of the station. Michael Lopez, exerting his influence from even this distance, was staying in San Francisco to collect the money and take the next ransom demand.

_ I'm getting' out of here! _He stood carefully, feeling the tight coil of muscles held in check for too long. He had planted himself in a corner office and had kept to himself, ears open for anything that he could use to help find the two kids and his partner. _There's gotta be __**something **__to go on, __**someone **__who knows this area and has an idea of where a good hideout would be. And whoever they are, they aren't in here._

He tossed the half empty cup into the garbage and headed for the hallway, by-passing the huddled groups. He strode by Dobey, not sparing him a glance as he headed for the hallway. He was suddenly stopped by a strong, dark grip on his arm.

"You going somewhere?" Dobey's sharp eyes scanned Starsky's face. The detective knew there was nothing he could hide from his captain. Not now.

Starsky sighed, clenching his fists in an effort to keep from wrenching away from the man. Dobey didn't deserve a shove-off. "Wish I was, Cap'n," he replied sourly. "I'm not doing much good in here and they aren't goin' to let either of us in on this." He gazed forcefully at the captain. "You know it and I know it. But I gotta go and do **somethin'**. It's **Hutch**..." He almost choked on his frustration and anger, unable to finish the sentence.

Starsky watched as Dobey's eyes softened in understanding. "You're still on vacation, Starsky. You don't have to answer to me. Here." Dobey dug into his shorts pocket and handed Starsky a set of keys. "Edith will need a ride back to the park and I'm sure she wouldn't miss the truck for awhile. I can hitch a ride home."

Starsky stared in surprise at the truck keys as Dobey gave his arm another squeeze and let him go. He could only nod and stride purposely through the door and out into the busy hallway.

He spotted Edith in the bustling front lobby, seated on a reception couch and talking to Augustine Greenfeld. Both women were talking animatedly when he came up to them.

"Oh, Dave, there you are," Edith voiced with relief on seeing him. "I need to talk to you for a minute." She turned back to Augustine and said something too low for him to hear, then left the couch, pulling him with her into a corner.

Deep black eyes looked with concern into his as warm, friendly hands took his in a reassuring grip. "How are you doing?" Edith asked quietly.

He shrugged slightly, not even attempting a smile. "I'm fine. You know me, Edith."

"Any news on Hutch?" She asked, squeezing his hands once again.

"Nah, not yet. But things could be worse_." We could have found him like we found Richard, _he thought with a wince.

Edith gazed at him for a moment, then nodded her head in agreement. "Dave, I've been talking to Augustine and she's been telling me about the ESPRIT group. I think the other officers may be missing something here."

Starsky felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. "ESP is not the kinda thing the department usually pegs a lot of hope on. And with Hutch missing..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice his mistrust of the subject.

"I wasn't talking about the group's beliefs, Dave," Edith chided lightly. "I was talking to Augustine and found out some things the other officer may not have told you. You know that Charley's father is a millionaire and Laura's father has worked for him for years. The families are very close and Charley and Laura have almost grown up together."

"So they've been dating for awhile then." He shrugged. "That's not surprising."

"Ah, but according to Augustine, Charley's had a crush on Laura for years and apparently the girl would never have anything to do with him. Those who know Charley were stunned to see them together. Apparently none of his close friends ever thought that he had a chance with her." Edith shook her head, concern on her face. "She and her father apparently came to the convention only to be with Charley. They never showed any interest in any of the subjects and didn't associate with any of the others in the group. Augustine seems sure that the girl and her father were **using** Charley in some way."

"It's not much to go on," he muttered, more to himself than to Edith. "But I'll listen."

He gave Edith a reassuring smile and followed her back to the lobby's couch where Augustine watch them both. She was solemn looking now, nothing like the buoyant person of the other night. He knew that with the bustle of the lobby they could talk with relative privacy, just one more conversation among the many.

"Hey, Augustine, I'm Dave Starsky." He sat opposite the large lady, while Edith took a seat beside her. "We met the other night, I was Tina Calbert's date."

"Yes, I remember," Augustine answered quietly, with a wan smile. "I'm sorry I didn't get a better chance to talk to you and your partner that night, it would have been fun." She sighed and shrugged tiredly. "There were a lot of things I wish I had paid better attention to that night. But I think everyone here is missing the details, detective. No one seems to want any help from a pack of crazies."

Starsky saw sadness and frustration in the woman's eyes "Tell me what you know. What you saw the other night," he prodded gently.

"I **know **Charley, detective," Augustine began forcefully. "And he's a sweet boy, but not very mature. He's had people take care of him all of his life and he's never developed the stomach to fight for what he wants. He prefers to be told what to do and he usually does it with no question. His only desire seems to have been for Laura Tarran. You know her father works for his father?"

Augustine waited for Starsky's nod before continuing. "Well, those of us in the group have heard about her for years. Charley was always taken with her, but the girl apparently couldn't stand the sight of him. I met her once, when visiting Charley and I can tell you, detective, she** really **couldn't stand him. I could see it." Augustine sighed and shrugged. "Their auras clashed. There was longing on his part, but they were never meant to be together. And it didn't take a psychic to see that he made the girl's skin crawl when he was around. She tolerated him, but despised him at the same time."

"But everyone says they were a couple," Starsky said uncertainly. "The others all reported how close the two were. Apparently she was all over him the whole time they were at the convention."

"Oh, it was real for him," Augustine said quickly, but solemnly. "A sweet but spineless boy in love and lust. A powerful and intoxicating combination. But Laura Tarran was acting, detective. And so was Richard."

"Acting?" Starsky felt his brows knit in surprise. "What were they acting?"

"Laura was acting like she was Charley's girl and Richard acted like he was his friend." Augustine sighed and shrugged. "How can I explain it? Laura, her father and Richard seemed to hang around more together than you would think they should for strangers. They meshed well, as if connected by a purpose. But when Charley was around they..." She waved her hand in frustration, "they closed up and put up a false front around him. He thought he was welcomed, but there was a blackness around the others..." she trailed off, rubbing at tired eyes. "I should have warned him, but I'm too tired to meddle in people's lives anymore."

"So," He began gently, "you don't think that Laura and Richard were really Charley's friends and somehow her father was in on it. Did you see where any of them were last night?"

Augustine shrugged. "I saw Richard here and there. But he seemed to be following Charley and Laura around. About midnight I tried to find Richard to talk to him about one of the committees he'd signed up for, but I couldn't find him. I saw Charley and Laura walk down the lake's edge about one a.m. as they were leaving."

"Which way?" he asked. "Did they go towards the east side of the lake, or the west?"

"The west," Augustine replied tiredly. "And no one was with them, making them go that direction."

"Really? Richard, Charley, Laura and her father had camp sites on the east side of Captor's Cove."

"Something, Dave?" Edith asked quietly.

Starsky could almost feel some pieces click into place. "There's the bulk of the trailer park to the west, not much else to see down there, as the main trail just goes back to the lots. Nothing much there for two love-birds except for the camper Hutch and I brought."

"I don't understand, Dave," Edith said quietly, looking confused. "A young couple could drift off anywhere in a park as large as that."

"But they didn't drift off just anywhere. Edith, what time did you and the Cap'n get back to your RV?" Starsky asked seriously.

"Why, about midnight I believe."

"And you didn't hear anything? Any commotion, or raised voices?"

"Why, no. We didn't." Starsky saw the light shine in Edith's eyes as the situation dawned on her. "And we would have heard something if there had been any fight during the kidnapping. We're not that far from where you two were and Harold did tell the Sheriff that he heard a truck pull out about 1:30 a.m. or so. It could have been your camper."

"And what better way to lure a guy to a dark and private spot than with a willing lady?" Starsky rubbed his at own eyes, wishing he had had more sleep to work with. "So, Laura practically grows up with the kid, but can't stand him. Then suddenly she's on his arm and leading him away, into the dark." He sighed, not liking the way the story was unfolding.

He glanced at his watch and winced at the late hour. He'd missed dinner, but didn't feel hungry. He needs to get Edith back and see what he could dig up before the sun finally set. "You two wait here, I need to talk to the Cap'n for a minute."

At Edith's and Augustine's nod, Starsky made his way down the busy hall and found a surprised Dobey. Their conversation was short and sweet, with Starsky whispering to Dobey that maybe they had better keep an eye out for Andrew Tarran, who may not be as frantic for his daughter's safety as he seemed.

His captain's eyebrows had climbed at the suggestion, but he nodded his agreement with a 'I'd better have the whole story later' look before Starsky headed back for the ladies. _Dobey's sharp,_ he thought gratefully, feeling a bit of hope. _If Andrew Tarran's over or under actin' the frightened parent part, he'll spot it. And once he gets his teeth into something he won't let go, no matter who the suspect is._

Edith had been understanding and gracious about Starsky getting the use of the truck for the evening and he dropped her off first. Augustine had needed a ride and he had volunteered his services. He had wanted to talk to her again.

An hour later he sighed and flexed the fingers of his left hand, sore from the unaccustomed driving. He eyed the rapidly falling twilight. _Too soon. Hutch's been gone for hours now and I need the daylight. It's too soon._

Augustine sat quietly in the corner of the truck, watching him. She had been strangely quiet on the way back, even with Edith trying to make polite conversation. Starsky knew that she must feel responsible, if her belief that she could have warned Charley was true. She seemed content to wait for him to speak.

He started the truck and turned towards her campsite. "Augustine, do you think that Andrew Tarran could have planned to kidnap both Charley and his daughter? Would a man like that put his daughter through that kind of trauma?"

"I don't know him, detective. But I've seen him and heard him talk." Augustine shifted her bulk slightly in the seat, to lean her head tiredly against the window frame. "He's a cold man, all browns, black and grays. So is his daughter. But would he put her in danger?" She shrugged slightly, seemingly having no answer. "But I don't think that girl is anyone's victim. She was using Charley, I could see it. Whatever was going on, she was a part of it."

"There's another meeting tonight, do you want me to take you there?"

"Yes, thank you. Right now I could use some friends around me." Augustine sounded tired and in the dim light Starsky could see she didn't look well. "But if you wouldn't mind driving around to the closest lot..."

He drove slowly along the unlit trail, watching as the various lights and campfires appeared as suddenly as fireflies. Here and there in the falling darkness campers were preparing for the night and loud and joyful calls could be heard in the busy park. Time for family and friends.

Starsky felt a sudden stab of loneliness and a threatening touch of panic, but he pushed it forcefully to the back of his thoughts. _Back to business, David Michael, you're not the one in trouble and needing the cavalry_, he chided himself. _Shove it to the back and put it on hold, kid. Frettin' and worryin' will just slow you down. Think about the case. Do your job. Get him back. Then you won't have anything to fuss about. _He didn't **want** to think that there might be no Hutch left to find, but the thought was always there.

"Don't worry, you would know if he were gone."

Starsky flinched at the seeming intrusion into his thoughts. He turned the truck onto the main road that led to the second campsite and glanced at his companion. The darkness had fallen quickly and there was very little light to see by. "What do you mean?" he tried to ask casually.

Augustine chuckled deeply in the darkness. "Him. Who else would be on your mind right now?"

"Two missing kids, wouldn't you think?" he asked with a touch of embarrassment. "My partner's only part of the case." _Yeah, say it like you mean it, Starsky,_ he thought sarcastically. _You're Supercop, remember? Nerves of steel._

"To others, maybe," Augustine replied, suddenly serious "But not to you. You're not kidding anyone, you know." Her voice was barely a whisper in the darkness. "He's alive and you **know** it."

He stayed silent for a few moments, reminding himself that it probably didn't take a mind reader to see how tense he was. "And how can you be so sure?" he asked quietly, aware of the slight mocking tone. "You holdin' back on me Augustine?"

She sighed and he got the feeling she had shrugged as well. "You don't need **me** to tell you the link is still there. He's still alive and you're still connected. If he dies, you'd **know**."

Starsky suddenly felt like squirming. This whole conversation was verging on areas he'd never been a very big believer in, no matter how much Hutch had tried to get him into the 'transcendental' stuff_. If there __**were**__ powers of the mind we could be using to help people, then Hutch 'n I would've found them by now,_ he decided. _All the lives we could have saved, with only a miracle or two on our side..._

"Here it is," Augustine said as he drove up to large parking lot. It was only sparsely filled with cars. The kidnappings and death had probably subdued a lot of people's enthusiasm for the convention. "Are you coming, detective?"

"Yes." He shrugged into the sudden light of the truck cab as Augustine opened the door. "I'm going to find Gina and Tina and see what they can find out. Someone must have known something, seen something that'll give me a break in this case."

Augustine reached over and patted Starsky's shoulder before moving out of the truck. "Don't worry, you'll find him."

He sat in the dark for a moment and watched as Augustine started down the trail towards the water, heading for the beach area.

_ Oh, I'll find him_, he thought solemnly, locking up the Dobeys' truck and heading for the distant group. _Even if it takes forever. It's the condition I find him in that worries me._

AAAAA

Hutch lay panting, feeling twisted, bruised and full of splinters. He didn't know how long he had been pinned in the small woodbox, but felt as if he had been there forever.

He had wanted to co-operate enough on being imprisoned in the box to make sure he was in a good position to kick his way out. But that had been a lost cause when he had been unceremoniously shoved into the wood filled receptacle by Laura as soon as the panel had been opened. He had landed hard, unable to use his hands to stop yet another fall, and the shift of wood and bark as his weight hit the unstable pile had caused everything to shift and move. The panel had slammed shut and Hutch had found himself pinned between the plywood lid and the unstable and unyielding pile of wood.

With his feet free, but on his back and his hands pinched and mostly numb, Hutch had tried to twist himself into a better position. But every move shifted another log and threatened another painful drop from the top of the pile. Hutch hadn't even seen the one that had fallen to hit his face. The towel in his mouth had sapped all the moisture out of him, but he knew the taste of a split lip and loose teeth even so. He had just been lucky it hadn't hit him harder, or he would have been knocked out.

_ Even if I do get out, I'm not going to get very far this way,_ He thought angrily. _I'm going to beat myself to a pulp if I'm not careful. But I'm going to have to get this weight off of my hands. _

The burning, painful throbbing of lost circulation had been reduced to a chilling numbness in his fingers which worried the detective. With a careful shift of his feet, he braced them against an unseen wall and pushing slightly, twisted his torso to the side. He bit his gag hard as the shift sent two more logs rolling from the top of the pile and into his hip and ribs. He held deathly still, panting through the pain, waiting to see if he'd pushed his luck too far sent the rest of the logs to bury him.

After a moment or two of stillness he allowed himself to relax and to inventory his situation. He was now lying on his side, pinned between the plywood lid and a shifted pile of cord wood. His weight was off of his still numb hands, but he still couldn't bring his knees far enough up to allow a shove at the lid. Nor could he angle them under him, to press upward, even if he wasn't half buried by wood.

_ Real cute, Hutchinson,_ he thought sarcastically. _Sure, Starsky would've been in here thirty seconds and have managed to twist around and kick his way free. You just end up twisted into a knot. And if he finds me like this, I'm going to have to live through fireplace jokes for the next year. _

He tried to avoided wondering what his partner was up to at the moment. He knew with certainty how he would have felt if Starsky had disappeared and knew it wouldn't be any better on his partner's end. It would be worse.

He hadn't even heard the footsteps before the scraping sound began. He tensed, realizing that someone was unlocking the woodbox. When the lid was suddenly thrown open and he was blinded by a strong flashlight in the face.

"There he is, pull him out," a gruff voice demanded.

_ Oh, great,_ he thought, _new players in the game. _He felt himself grabbed and pulled roughly out of his prison. He held back a groan as each and every scrape and bruise throbbed in protest. He was jerked to his feet and shoved forward, eyes still unfocused from the assault of the flashlight. But two large men had a hold of his arm, keeping him on his feet as he stumbled.

He realized there were three men, one on each side of him and one following behind. He was pulled around to the front of the cabin and had just enough time to focus in the bright moonlight, noticing the station wagon was there along with a four-wheel drive vehicle when he was shoved through the doorway.

The first thing that assaulted him was the sensation of wooden floors on his bare feet. He blinked frantically and was able to quickly make out the cabin in the dim light of a kerosene lamp. The whole building consisted of one fair sized room, an ancient and rusted bed frame, a smallish wooden table with a lamp, a wood burning stove that was long past usefulness and several mismatched chairs. In one of the chairs was a bound and wide-eyed Charles Lopez. No electricity, no phone, and no radio spoke of the cabin's age and apparent abandonment. As far as he could tell, this wasn't even used as a hunting cabin anymore.

"Well, welcome to the convention, detective," Laura Tarran said happily from a dark corner. "I bet you're glad to be out of there, aren't you?"

Laura nodded towards one of the men holding him firmly and he immediately began to untie the towel that gagged him. He coughed as he gasped for air he hadn't known he was starved for.

"Tie him next to Charley," Laura ordered the silent men.

Shoved towards the other side of the room, Hutch almost fell into the wooden chair. Grabbed at the neck and head shoved between his knees, he was forced to bite his swollen lip as rough hands unwrapped the twisted wire from his wrists. He gasped as blood starved fingers twitched and burned at the renewed flow. He almost sighed with relief as he heard the snick of handcuffs he couldn't yet feel from behind him. He knew that the likelihood of losing a hand from poor circulation was less likely now, although they would be harder to get out of.

"So," he rasped out as he was freed to sit upright. "What have I missed so far? I really hate to come in late on a good story."

"Oh, it's just the usual kidnapping and murder story," Laura nodded at the three men in the room, smiling at Hutch with satisfaction. "These are my father's men detective, not a rescue party if you haven't figured that out by now. But then again, I don't think you're quite as slow as my boyfriend here." She gave a scathing glare at Charley. "He's a bit confused about the cast of characters in this show."

Hutch only spared a glance at the dejected young man. Charley's head hung low and his eyes were glued to the floor, as if he had been dealt a blow he couldn't handle.

_ Poor kid,_ he thought. _Wanted to be the White Knight for your lady, not the Court Jester_. But he knew Charley's type well enough to know there wasn't much strength, if any, in the pampered young man that would help either one of them.

He cleared his parched throat and drew his attention back to the girl. "Well," he began, "do you mind **my** asking for a program?" He gingerly started to flex and stretch burning fingers, hoping to work them into usefulness. He wanted to keep Laura talking, hoping she wouldn't notice his efforts.

"Oh, Charley and I are the kidnap victims, detective," she answered with a laugh. "You see, Charley's father and my father have worked together for years, my father doing the drudge work, building up a remarkable financial empire." Laura waved the gun distastefully at the younger man. "And year after year, Michael Juan Lopez continued to get richer and richer, throwing a bone or two to his faithful assistant. Now that isn't fair, detective. My father did all the work, fought all the battles, so why shouldn't he be the one to enjoy the riches?"

"So you and your father planned on evening the score a bit, is that it?" Hutch asked calmly. "You two set up this little ransom plot to get your rightful share?"

"Smart guy," Laura nodded, settling herself on the edge of the small table. "Of course, Charley's father would pay the ransom for both of us. Double the money and my father and I would never be suspected. Especially after the first ransom is paid and a scared and sobbing Laura Terran is found at the first drop-off point. She'll be alive and healthy, but unable to identify her attackers. But poor Charley will never make it to that point, his body being found sometime after the second ransom is paid."

"And then your father would retire to another country with the ransom money, and his devoted daughter would follow him," Hutch continued, masking his disgust at the girl's evil glee at the 'death' of her 'boyfriend'. "You two must have gone to a lot of trouble to set this all up. Been planning it for a long time?" he asked conversationally.

"Too damn long," Laura muttered with a grimace. "But we still had too many glitches. You and your partner for one. That camper wasn't supposed to be occupied." She shook her head in disgust. "Imagine my surprise when I tell my lover that I've borrowed a 'love nest' to get away from my father's hulking presence, only to find it obviously occupied by men." She suddenly laughed. "You and your partner must have the worst luck in the world, detective. I didn't even know who you were when we broke in to steal the station wagon, let alone that you and your partner were the ones actually using our escape camper."

"Well, we've been known to get our noses in the middle of things before. We seem to have a talent for that sort of thing."

"It seems as if you won't have to worry about it much longer," Laura said with a sneer. "You see, we didn't plan on dealing with you, we don't need you, so it won't be long before you and Charley both are out of the picture. Just another victim to the kidnapper's plot."

"So, why did you take me with you and not kill me like you did Richard?" Hutch asked, watching Laura flinch, just ever so slightly at the name. "Or did you intend that death too?"

"Richard was stupid," she replied scathingly. "Actually, that development was a surprise. You can thank Charley-boy for that one."

Hutch glanced at Charley out of the corner of his eye, seeing the bound form grow even more desolate than before.

"My lover wanted to act the hero," Laura continued with disgust. "We were, of course, surprised by Richard at the camper with a gun. Richard held the gun to my head, making sure my 'boyfriend' wouldn't make any false moves. We were bundled up and Richard hitched the camper up and pulled out. But the idiot didn't tie lover-boy here up tightly enough and he managed to work his way loose. Apparently Richard heard something and stopped the truck, opening the camper to see what was going on. Charley jumped him, knocking him out with a frying pan." She shrugged as if describing a minor annoyance, smiling evilly at Charley who refused to look her way. "My White Knight, huh, sweetheart?"

"So you tied him up..." he prodded, knowing that her willingness to talk was not a good sign, but unable to pass up the opportunity. "You left him. I guess you were lucky he died before he was found by the sheriff's department."

"Oh, that was no problem," Laura replied smoothly, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "After I had Charley convinced that the woods were swarming with kidnappers and that only **I** knew of a safe place to hide, it only took a second to finish Richard off." She snorted derisively. "Charley's always been an idiot, he was so upset he promptly ran us into the ditch and overturned the camper. Poor Charley thought we were leaving the man for the police to find. I had him convinced that we needed to hide out until his father's men could bring us home safely."

"So you unhitched the camper and took off for here." Hutch nodded, indicating the small room. "You had everything set up for this."

"Except for that damn truck, which died on us, and that hell-bent trek through the woods." Laura chuckled humorlessly. "All of which let me keep Charley in control and away from the Sheriff's men. And as luck would have it, the first cabin we come to with a vehicle happened to have a cop in residence. You and your partner really live dangerously, don't you?"

"It's a gift," he replied with as charming a smile as he could with a split lip. "But why not just kill me there? Why drag me all the way out here?"

"To buy us time, detective," Laura sighed, looking as though she were tiring of the game of twenty questions. "We needed the time the mystery of your absence would produce and my dear Charley doesn't have the guts to kill. He would have freaked if you'd been shot and I needed him calm and in control until my men arrived to back me up. And it took them..." She shot the other three men a scathing look, "long enough to figure out that I'd come straight here when we didn't show up at the rendezvous point. As you can tell, sir, I'm the brains of this outfit."

"So now it's ransom for three?" Hutch asked cautiously, holding out little hope for a positive answer.

"No, it's still just two." She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm afraid the trade-in value of a cop is practically nil these days. But don't worry, sweetie. We'll keep you around awhile yet." Laura checked her watch in the dim light of the lamp. "Time for the tape recording, Charles-my-dear. We want to make sure that Daddy can hear your voice one last time."

She signaled to one of the silent men in the background. He pulled a tape recorder out of a box and started to set it up on the table. "This way we'll have a Charles Lopez to talk to his father on the phone, right after my ransom is paid and I'm safely tucked away at home. Oh, you have a bit of time left, but when I'm on my way home after a successful ransom drop, the two of you will be disposed of, never to be found and this cabin empty of any trace of us."

Hutch felt the chill as he realized her plan would work. A voice to ensure a father that his son was still alive, a standard demand in any ransom call. This call could be made at any time, from any location, without the need to drag the victim around or even keep him alive.

Laura waved the men towards the silent Charles Lopez, who had finally turned to face his former love with hatred in his eyes. "Let's get this done Charley. But don't take this all so hard. You will, after all, be making a real place for yourself in the archives of ESP history, just as you've always wanted." She grinned the grin of a Cheshire cat, meeting his burning look with amusement. "You'll be the first person in history to make a honest-to-goodness call from beyond the grave, my dear. You should be proud."


	9. Chapter 9

AAAAA

The first thing Starsky noticed on the trail to the bon-fire was how quiet this gathering was. The happy enthusiasm of the previous night was lacking here, leaving only a quiet grouping here or there. He had seen the list of tests and activities planned for tonight, but they had apparently been abandoned for small, close-knit clusters of friends.

He was also keenly aware of the sympathetic gazes from those who watched his progress. By now the news of the kidnappings and death had spread like wildfire, and Starsky was under no illusion that everyone here didn't know who he was and that his partner was missing. He nodded to those who signaled to him that they knew who he was and that he was welcomed here.

He saw the group he was looking for on the far side of the gathering. Augustine had settled in a group with several people He recognized, more than a few of whom he was glad to see. Jerome, Beth and the twins were there, all looking sad and solemn at his approach.

Tina left her seat on seeing him and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Dave! I'm so sorry about what happened. Have you heard anything yet?" she asked hopefully.

He held her for a moment, grateful for the small comfort. "No, nothing yet," he answered, wanting to comfort, but unable to say anything falsely cheerful. "I need your help, Tina. And everyone else's here. Someone must know something that can help."

"We've been working on it, Dave," Tina released him long enough to take his arm and lead him to a vacant chair. He only nodded at the others, and at Gina, who gave him a sickly smile, as if she was on the edge of tears. "Augustine told us you know about Charley and Laura, and I have to say I agree with her. Laura was a first degree snot one minute, then sweet as honey to us as soon as Charley was within earshot. That girl had no interest in this group, only in Charley."

"She's a controller," Jerome chimed in. "She is as cold as ice inside, but she's sharp and organized. Whatever's happened here, it didn't go on without her planning and controlling a part of it."

"So, you all think that the kidnapping was staged?" he asked, unsurprised at the nod of heads around the group. "Did you tell the Sheriff's men all this?" Looks were exchanged between most in the group, and he could tell they'd tried to report what they knew.

"We've told them, but they didn't seem to be listening," Augustine replied bitterly. "We're just a group of crazies, you know. And since all we had were the observations of a group of freaks, and not anything substantial, we didn't get a lot of attention."

"They didn't seem to care about our suspicions," Gina spoke up quietly. "All they wanted to know was when and where we saw the couple together, who they talked to, when they came and went. They weren't really interested in 'gossip'."

"And then there were the questions about you and Ken," Tina added, disgust in her voice. "You would have thought that you two were the main suspects."

Starsky gave Tina a small smile. "I'm afraid that's standard procedure, Tina." The news didn't surprise him, but it didn't sit well either. "Hutch and I don't really have any standing here, it's out of our area. And we did bring in the camper which was used in the kidnapping."

"And Hutch's disappearance?" Gina asked in surprise. "Don't tell me they think you've staged that!"

"As far as they know, he could be in on the plot and took a powder, waiting for his share of the ransom." He shook his head at Gina's disgusted gasp. He knew the way things worked, but felt her anger and disgust at the thought. "We can't take it personally, Gina. In a large operation like this, everyone not known to the investigating team will get a once over. Hutch and I have bounced the idea of bad cops around more than once when the situation called for it. And, unfortunately, we were right in some of those cases. This isn't any different." _But it feels different, when you're on the other side of it_, he admitted silently. _Because I __**know**__ they're wasting time on checking out Hutch and I, and there's no telling how much time we have left._

"Well, what can we do?" Jerome asked, watching him closely. "I've told the Sheriff's people everything I know. But I'm open to any suggestions."

"Well, then, how about playing Twenty Questions?" he asked with a false smile. "First question. Who was Richard Drey, and was he a part of this group?"

"Yes," Beth answered with a grimace. "He was a new member. I met him down at a southern California university when they were doing a lot of ESP testing down there. He seemed real quiet and closed up, but I just figured he was uncomfortable with the testing procedures. I told him about the group, and he seemed really interested. The first time I saw him again was the other night as we were all milling around. But I didn't talk to him, and he seemed to want to keep to himself."

"You know anything else about him?"

"No, I'm sorry. I only met him those few times." She shrugged apologetically. "I didn't read the tarot for him. He's a stranger to me."

"Okay, question number two," he said, looking at all the anxious faces around him, "Is there anything you've remembered about last night that you haven't reported yet?" He watched closely, but only saw negative answers in their expressions. "Well, what about Laura and Charley? I've heard that they arrived separately, Charley coming in his camper, while Laura arrived with her father."

"Yeah," Tina chimed in. "I thought it was pretty strange that they were supposed to be here as a couple, but Laura was staying with her father in their monster RV. I mean, she's not a teenager anymore. I was surprised that she stood still for daddy coming along with them and playing the chaperone."

He gave them another moment, but even with all the concerned looks, no one volunteered anything else. "Question three, Did any of you know her very well?"

"Not her, but we knew Charley," Augustine answered. "That kid has been gushing on that girl ever since he was old enough to notice she was one. Through the years, we've all come to know Charley and his 'golden obsession'. I was hoping he'd outgrow her some day, but that kid is nothing if not loyal."

"But you don't think she returned the favor," he stated, feeling it obvious what everyone's opinions were.

"Not if even half the stories Charley told us were true." Gina shrugged. "She used him as a pin cushion, and we were left with pulling them out of his soul. And no matter how many times we tried to get it through his head that she was the worse thing in the world for him, he'd defend her to the hilt."

"An idiot in love," Tina added with a snort.

"Being nasty is one thing, but thinking she had anything to do with the kidnapping is another," he began uncertainly. "And if you hadn't met her before..."

"She was even worse in person than I'd thought she'd be," Beth responded bitterly. "It was like she had some kind of radar, nasty and condescending when Charley wasn't around, then as innocent as an angel when he was. And there was no doubt that she was controlling him, and he was wallowing in being led."

He saw the nods of agreement from those around him. "Okay, so Laura was in on the kidnapping, assuming she had the help of her father. I can tell you that the camper that Hutch and I were using was rented, and it was a fluke that we had it at all. If this was planned, and Laura and her father planned it, then there would be someplace ready to take Charley. Do any of you know the area, and where they could have gone?"

His heart fell as he saw the discouraged glances that passed from one to the other in the group.

"I'm sorry, Dave," Gina spoke out softly after a moments silence. "Tina and I are familiar with the area, I don't think anyone else is from around here. And I'm sure you realize that we're on the edge of a national park. The accessible acreage alone..." she drifted off, obviously not wanting to say what everyone there already knew.

_ They could be anywhere,_ he finished for himself. _And I have nothing solid to go on. There's Laura and her father, but I don't have the time to dig through their past, even if the Feds would let me near him at this point. But I still have until noon tomorrow, if only I could find something. __**Anything**__..._

"There **is **somethingyou have to go on," Augustine interjected once again into his thoughts.

_ Damn, I wish she would quit doing that,_ he thought impatiently, with a touch of that lost feeling again. It felt normal and natural for him when Hutch did that, read his mind, but it grated on him when it came from someone else. Only Hutch had the right to do that. "Okay, I'm game for anything right now. What did you have in mind?" He sighed, wondering if he was opening something he'd wished he hadn't.

"It's the link, isn't it Auggy?" Gina asked quickly, hope showing in her eyes. "You mentioned the twin link they had. It's like the one Tina and I have isn't it?"

Augustine gazed seriously at him. He could see in her eyes that she truly believed in whatever it was she saw. "Oh, it's there. I can still see it." She nodded. "And you **know** it's there, detective, even if you won't admit it to yourself. It's there as long as he's alive, and you **know** he is, even now. You couldn't help but know if he was gone, because if he was, you'd lose the link too."

He felt a chill run through him as he heard her words. It was as if he were hearing something he really shouldn't know, some private part of himself that was supposed to remain that way.

_ But what else have I got? How much time do I have? Can I take a chance on missing out on a way to find Hutch because I don't have the certainty that he does? _He steadied himself and took a deep breath. "Okay, I feel like he's alive. But I don't know how. What good does that do me?"

Augustine smiled a little at him. "I'm not the one who can tell you that, detective. But Jerome can."

He turned to watch the older man, remembering how much Hutch seemed taken with him. _Hutch is a good judge of character,_ he thought fondly. _Even if he does put a little too much faith in people's intrinsic goodness shining through. And it's not like I've got anything else. _"So what can you help me with, Jerome? What is it you can do, exactly?"

Jerome sighed and lit a cigarette. "I'm some sort of an empath," he answered simply. "They have all kinds of names for it, but I can never remember what 40 letter word they assign to it from one series of tests to another. I can tell a lot about a person, sometimes by touch, sometimes by just being near them for a period of time."

"So, you should be able to tell me how I can use this link to my advantage." He couldn't help but smile and shake his head disbelievingly. "What can you tell about me, then?"

"I haven't been around you long enough yet, nor come in physical contact with you." Jerome's eyes were serious, but slightly amused as they studied Starsky's face. "I shook your partner's hand when I met him."

He knew a challenge when he heard one, and decided he could play along. "Then I assume you can tell me a little bit about him, right?" _Try to convince me Jerome,_ he thought pleadingly. _I'm not quite ready to delve into this, unless I can trust it in some way._

Jerome seemed to hear the unspoken plea, taking a moment to think back on the encounter. He took several deep puffs on his cigarette then pitched it into the bon-fire. "Hutchinson is an healthy man, but there's something a little off about him, physically. Not that it's impeding him in any way, but he's suffered more than one major attack on his system, and came very close to dying not too long ago. He still suffers from backlashes at times, but he hides it well."

_ Heroin and the plague_, He felt his eyes widen in shock_. But backlashes? Could Hutch be having problems and not telling me? _It didn't take long for him to answer his own question, he knew Hutch too well. _Yes, he'd hide it from me if he thought I'd worry, and couldn't do anything to help him. _The thought scared him, but rang true. Heroin could haunt a person for years, but Hutch never talked about it. He gathered himself again, not wishing to give any more away than he had too. He knew better than to confirm Jerome's lucky guess.

"The man is well educated and was raised to be a formidable power in the business world, but he doesn't take it seriously. He's too 'people' oriented to let the expectations of others keep him from wallowing in the humanity around him. He does let the 'snob' in him loose once in awhile. In times of frustration or stress he takes it out on those he trusts the most. He regrets it later, but has never learned to apologize well or forgive himself, even when others do. He's never quite sure people actually like him for who he is, when he can't seem to. He discounts his accomplishments, but carries his failures with him like a two-ton backpack."

_ How many others have ever seen him that way? _he wondered_. _He knew Hutch was a closed book to most people. He could seem cold and hard to strangers, made of ice and cold fury to criminals, and all kinds of a klutz when he really wanted to impress. Few of the people who thought him hard and cold had also seen him frozen with stage-fright and full of fear at being rejected. _Some ice-man, _he thought fondly_, with a heart so hard he feels like every lost soul on the street is his responsibility to protect and save. Mr. Guilt trip..._

"But what's his talent, Jerome?" Tina asked. "Auggy says they belonged with us, so he must have **some** gift."

He stayed silent, unwilling to say anything to sway Jerome one way or the other. _But he was so close in describing the real Hutch. As close as anyone who's known him for years_, he mused_. Like Beth came close to me in her readings. Too close for comfort._

"He's a healer." Jerome shrugged as if the answer was obvious. "He has the touch and the compassion. It's in his hands and his heart. He would have been a great doctor, therapist or councilor. He has the power to heal and mend those he touches, those he cares for."

Starsky sighed, rubbing at his face as he felt the truth in the words. The mother-hen in Hutch was basic to who he was as a person. He had seen Hutch reach out a thousand times to touch people, the cop in him making him pull back at the last moment. _How many times have I let him fuss over me? I __**did **__feel better when he babied me when I had a cold or flu, or took care of me when I was hurt on the job. And it made him happy to be able to help. Even yesterday..._

Starsky's thoughts were drawn back to the massage Hutch had given him and how much better he had felt afterwards. He had had massages in therapy for his shoulder wound. It had always hurt, and made him achy and sore. But never when Hutch did it. They had even laughed about how He had needed a massage to recover from his massage therapy.

"Doesn't sound like he's the sort of person who would become a cop." Tina shook her head, obviously not getting the picture. "If he's got the gift of healing, why not work at something else, closer to what he's suited for?"

"Well, he's got the gift, but it's not physically strong, and it takes a lot out of him," Jerome answered confidently, as if he had known Hutch for many years. "He also tends to get too personally involved with people on a one to one level, which leaves him wide open to attack. But the drive to heal and mend is strong." Jerome smiled, as if he understood the feeling. "So he tries to heal on a less personal level, where he can protect himself better. It's one thing to try to heal a disease when it's already spread, but it's quite another to try to cut out the diseased tissue before it can grow. He's gone after one of the biggest diseases there is, crime against the average, everyday citizen. He's trying to dig it out at the core."

He found himself suddenly laughing in astonishment. He knew the others were watching him with puzzled faces, but Jerome only shook his head and smiled back.

"All that from a single handshake?" he asked with a chuckle, feeling as if this were all some wonderful joke. Either Jerome had gotten all this from Hutch, or had pulled it from Starsky's deep knowledge of the man. Whichever it was, it had been a wonderful demonstration. "Jerome, you ever think about becoming a cop? We could clean every street in the worst area of town with your help."

"**No**, thank you," Jerome replied a bit solemnly, lighting another cigarette. "Each man has his limits, and this size of a group is mine. Why do you think I spend most of my life living in the wilderness? I'd be crazy by now if I didn't."

"What do you need me to do Jerome?" he asked cautiously. "What can I tap into to get my partner back?" He hadn't meant for it to sound as serious as it did, but the others looked at him with understanding.

"There may not be any talent you **can** use, detective." Jerome answered seriously. "All I can tell you is what you have the power to do. I'm not promising it will be useful in any way whatsoever."

He nodded his understanding. "Well, it's better than staying at the Sheriff's office and waiting on word." He stood and offered his hand to Jerome. "And it has been a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

Jerome took Starsky's hand, and shook it firmly. Jerome looked him straight in the eye, and He didn't flinch, but allowed Jerome to study him. It lasted only a minute, and He returned to his seat. He felt a bit of disappointment that he hadn't felt anything happening on his end. Jerome was silent for a moment, blowing smoke and watching him closely.

"Well, was that enough for a verdict?" Starsky asked cautiously.

Jerome nodded his head in affirmation. "I'll save you the deep and detailed physiological profile, detective." Jerome smiled at him as if sharing a private joke. "But let me ask you a few questions first."

He nodded his agreement.

"For as long as you've known Hutchinson, were you always close friends?"

"Yes."

"Were you ever separated? Or have you always worked together?"

He thought for a moment, not quite sure what Jerome wanted to know. "We became friends at the police Academy. We'd trained together and always planned to work as a team. But we spent our rookie years with other partners. We were trained by other detectives. Separately."

"When you were separated, working with different partners, did you always feel like you knew **where **he was? That if you called his house he'd be there? Or you wouldn't call, knowing he'd still be out on the street or at the station?"

He felt suddenly uncomfortable again, but he didn't know why. "Yeah, I guess I did. Hutch used to joke that I had people spying on him, or had an informer at his station house." He smiled slightly at the memory. He usually had been able to peg Hutch with only a call or two, sometimes just missing him coming or going. He hadn't thought about Hutch's light hearted accusations for years now.

"Has your partner ever been missing, and when found, you were actually only minutes away, close enough to almost have found him yourself?"

"Yes." He found himself gulping at the memory of the near misses his partner had suffered. Hutch being trapped in that car, and when Monk and his men had him. He remembered the strong feelings of frustration and purpose that had almost lead him to Monk's doorstep in the one instance, and how he had known which clue was the important one when Hutch had been trapped in the other. _I'd been so close then, only minutes away from him each time. If only I could get that close again, find him again..._

"That's what your talent is, detective. And I think that's what the link is for. Direction is the key. You 'know' where your partner is by the link, maybe not the specific location, but his general direction at any time. Somehow, for your own reasons, you have 'tagged' him. It is important to you to know where he is and..." Jerome's voice softened, "and that he's alive."

He rose suddenly, compelled to move and vastly uncomfortable with the thought of a link between him and Hutch. He faced the roaring fire, turning his back on all the others. "But that doesn't make any sense. If I had been able to find Hutch before, I would have gone straight to where he was. I wouldn't have needed to bust my ass to find the clues. And once, I wasn't even the one who found him."

"But you were close by, right?"

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly.

"Tell me detective, you must work fast and dangerous when you two are on the street. Have you ever almost shot your partner by accident? Run into him with a car? Mistaken his movements for the bad guys? Or had him disappear on you when he was with you one minute, and gone the next?"

"No," he answered honestly. He may have aimed his gun in Hutch's direction once or twice, but never came near to pulling the trigger. His mind knew it was Hutch before his reflexes caught up with him. "But it's not like Hutch is a small man, or invisible. A cop must always know just exactly where his partner is during a bust. We're trained to do that, to watch each other's backs and keep track of each other."

"And you happen to do that better than most. At least with Hutch as a partner." Jerome stated it as a fact. "I have the feeling that you've always 'tagged' the people you care for, detective. And you've suffered a breaking of that thread before. One happened fairly recently and the other is years past, when you were young."

He shivered in the heat of the bon-fire, glad that no one could see his face. _Terry. She was in her neighborhood when she was shot. In an area that she knew well and felt safe in._ He replayed the memory to himself, the pang of guilt nothing new to him_. I hadn't been worried about her at all. She was where she was supposed to be. _He hadn't realized how guilty he had felt about that, as if he was supposed to have known the danger she was in. And in the hospital, at the end, he swore he had actually felt her leave. _She was there one minute, then suddenly gone from the room and me at the exact same time. As if she had been cut away with a knife. And Poppa..._

He sighed at the old memory. Somehow little Davey Starsky always knew when Pop was on his way home, or woke up in the wee hours of the morning as soon as his Pop had come in from a late night stake-out. He'd sneak down on those nights and sometimes his Pop would sit him at the table for a snack. His father had kidded him about being born with some sort of radar that they should bottle and sell. Their private joke. But the memory also carried the taste of death. _I remember, like it is branded into me_, He mused_. I remember setting the table for dinner, Ma wondering aloud if Pop was going to be late again, and me knowing he was on his way home. Ma scolding me for being so sure of things I couldn't possibly know. Then..._

Even now, He couldn't quite remember the details, just the sudden pain of being torn inside, and knowing that Pop was gone. Pop would never be home, because he wasn't **anywhere** anymore. Davey had suddenly been sick in the bathroom, his mother worried that he'd been poisoned by something in the kitchen. He had been frozen in shock then, and unable to explain what was wrong. His mother was on the phone to his pediatrician when the officers came to the door and broke the news. But Davey already knew, and wasn't surprised.

He had never quite remembered that part before, but suddenly there it was and as real as if it were yesterday. _Never again. I never wanted that to happen again. But Jerome's right, and I feel it. Whatever it really is, it's been this way with Hutch and me from the first time we met. And it was there with Terry, growing stronger all the time. I knew Augustine was right about what she saw, but didn't want to hear it. If Hutch dies... _He felt sickened at the thought.

He turned towards the silent gathering and strode to tower over Jerome. "Tell me how to use it, then," he demanded roughly. "This has already taken too much time, and I don't have a clue here. If this is the only chance I've got, then I'm gonna use it. Just tell me how!"

Jerome shook his head sadly, seemingly at a loss. "Auggy?" He looked helplessly in Augustine's direction. "What can we do with this?"

Augustine, looking older and more haggard as the evening progressed, sighed and rubbed her temples, elbows on the picnic table. She was quiet for a moment, then softly patted the table in front of her. "Sit here, David."

He sat as he was directed, watching Augustine and feeling the others in the group circle the table. Someone brought over a camping lantern and placed it to the side.

"David, I see the link, and it's still strong. But let's see if we can boost it a little." Augustine leaned in close and took his hands in hers. "Relax, and close your eyes."

He closed his eyes, but still felt far from relaxed. "Now what?"

She was silent for so long that He almost opened his eyes to check on her. "David," she began in a whisper, "think about your partner, think about him sitting right there beside you. Pull him in until he's right next to you."

It confused him at first, after all, how do you make someone **there** who isn't? But slowly he started to rebuild Hutch in his mind. He placed his friend next to him, knowing how the man's size and weight should feel beside him. And as he did so, He could feel the tight knot in his stomach loosen a bit. He concentrated on placing his partner next to him, like he was in the Torino. Build, height, weight and presence seemed to form slowly, but it did finally come to feel as if He could only open his eyes, and Hutch would be there, just sitting and watching him. He knew he must be gripping Augustine's hand hard, restraining the urge to reach out and touch his friend.

"Good! Good!" Augustine sighed in relief. "You learn fast, detective. Or you've done this before. The link with your partner is very strong and active now."

"Can you see...?" he began, not sure of what he was asking, eyes still tightly shut.

"No, I can't see the link past a few feet. Direction is your job, now isn't it?" came the amused reply.

"Now what?" he asked frantically.

"Let your partner's presence leave. Let it drift away, but follow it as far as you can."

He was unsure how to 'let it go', so he tried to 'feel' that Hutch was getting up and leaving. It was harder than he imagined it would be, as if he were afraid of losing him again. But very slowly he could feel his partner slipping away, and he followed it as far as he could. Then suddenly it was gone.

"There." He suddenly let go of Augustine and stood up, looking across the dark and moonlit raggedness of the lake's surface, towards the west. "He's over there somewhere."

"Close to the lake?" Gina asked excitedly. "Somewhere near the shore."

"No," he said, sounding as suddenly defeated as he felt. "He's just **that **way. Farther then the shore. I can't judge the distance, but it's farther away. Now what?" He knew he sounded angry, but was too tired to care. "What good does that do me?"

"Then we get in a car and go **that** way until you say stop, then we do it again," Jerome answered authoritatively. "And we keep on doing it all night if we have to, until you can pin the man down."

It wasn't much, but it was something. And whatever it was that He could do, he felt he was on the right track, just as he had when he'd talked to that kid who had heard his partner on the radio. It had been a long shot, but it had felt right at the time. And so did this.


	10. Chapter 10

AAAAA

Since the sun had set, Hutch had lost all track of time. Charley had been beaten until he had made the recording. He had tried to resist, but that didn't last long. He then tried to be 'smart' and say something stupid into the recorder, and they had made him do it again. In the end, they had gotten what they wanted. When played over the phone, it would sound as if a frightened Charley were responding to an anxious father as to his condition and his treatment.

Laura, who had watched the beatings with enjoyment, had taken the tape and had left soon after. Whatever plans she had for preparing for her ransom and release the next day were in progress and needed her attention.

She had left with one of the men, leaving instructions for the two to stay put and stand guard over the prisoners until "Tom" arrived tomorrow evening. His arrival would signal that all had gone well and the next phase of the ransom demands would start. There was a deep, old well in the back behind the cabin that would hide the bodies for years, maybe even forever. And when Charley's ransom money was delivered and a son not returned, the searchers would have no clues as to where to look.

_ She's right about that,_ Hutch thought grimly_. This is too far out in the middle of nowhere, and this cabin too disused to have anyone come by this way very often, let alone dig up a well._

Hutch listen closely to Laura's departure, hearing the sound of a four-wheel drive making its way down the rough trail road.

_ So they've left the station wagon_, he decided. _It must be too easily identifiable now. But they won't leave it here after we're disposed of. It'll tell every law enforcement official where the bodies are. But I ought to be able to hot-wire a station wagon. _He almost snickered at the idea of anyone having a legitimate reason to hot-wire such a bulky family car. _Uh-oh, Hutchinson, you're getting too tired and punchy. Keep yourself focused here._

He watched the two remaining men. They were both tall, and strong but not massive, and they moved with a military bearing. All signs that they were professionals and not the muscle-bound 'meat for brain' thugs he was used to dealing with. _Daddy pays well for the good help_, he thought tiredly. But they had made one mistake. Neither he nor Charley had been tied or handcuffed to their chairs, and Hutch's feet were still free, as was Charley's. _Too confident that we can't make a move, then. So we'd better make one soon._

He waited until the guards were talking among themselves before stretching newly mobile fingers and flexing hands and wrists. He may be handcuffed, but he could still use his hands somehow. He glanced at Charley, who'd been bound with twine, hands behind his back and gagged.

He had felt bad for the kid, he'd suffered more than one gut-crunching blow these last few days. But instead of caving in, he saw a fire in the young man's eyes that hadn't been there before, along with the swollen eye and bloody nose.

_Guess you've matured at top speed, kid. _Hutch eyed him uncertainly. _Sometimes that's what it takes, learning it's either sink or swim. But just how far can I trust you to back me up here? _

Whatever they were going to do, it was going to call for split second timing, with Charley either helping or staying completely out of the way. And He hadn't a clue as to what to do next. A few minutes wait did have its rewards. After conferring, one of the guards picked up one of the two rifles leaning in the far corner and left, apparently to stand watch outside.

_ One guard left inside, one outside, and one car_. He counted the inventory. _Let's work on one at a time, though. _

Hutch leaned back to wait, feeling the time wasn't quite right. The guard seemed content to stand by the door and watch out of the window, keeping himself too far away to jump. He tried to relax, saving his strength and trying to consider how to get the guard closer.

_ Man, I am __**so**__ tired_, he thought distractedly. _When I get back, I'm going to sleep for a week. And I'm going to bed at nine every night, no matter what. And no more vacations. I get better rest at home doing double shifts in the middle of August. _Suddenly his stomach grumbled. _Oh, yeah, that too. _

This had always been the hard part, being chest deep in trouble, tired and on his own. A strange part of him wished Starsky was here with him, instead of on the outside. It had always been easier to take with his partner around, but for even a small part of him to wish his friend was in this mess with him had to be the height of selfishness, even for him.

_ You're spoiled, Hutchinson, he _chided himself mildly. _You've been in worse than this, and he's always pulled you out before. You've got to do a little recovery on your own once in awhile. Why make Starsky do all the work? _

Suddenly, with his eyes closed and with only the sound of his fellow victim's breathing, he could almost feel as if his partner were standing right there beside him. He relaxed even further, enjoying the feeling of safeness, no matter how fake it was. _I could almost reach out and touch you, buddy, he _smiled to himself. _So how are you doing about now? Agitated out of your mind yet? Got your teeth in a clue, or has McKracken tried to shut you out? Knowing procedures, they've probably put you out to pasture on this one, haven't they? _

But the feeling was fleeting, and he almost sighed at the loss. _Maybe it's back to basics time. What do they usually do to draw a guard in? Have someone get sick, right? Not much chance of this guy believing that old trick_. _Unless... _Hutch eyed Charley again. The kid's face was pretty bloody and swollen, but the kid was alert. It was the gag in the kid's mouth that interested Hutch. _It's pretty tight, and if he were to get sick... _

"Charley!" He whispered tightly, turning slightly towards the kid. He had to be careful that the guard didn't hear him talking. But it was too quiet, and Charley hadn't raised his eyes from the floor. He shifted slightly to one side and lifted one bare foot to nudge his neighbor. Angry and scared eyes fastened on Hutch, practically begging for something to do.

"Sick," he mouthed, watching the confusion spread over Charley's face. "Be sick. Vomit. Choke on the gag." He flashed a glance at the disinterested guard, knowing that he hadn't drawn any attention so far. And with an almost audible sigh of relief, he saw Charley's eyes go wide in surprise. A split second later the surprise was replaced with a look of determination and a nod of the head.

"Wait," he whispered again. He shifted his position again, needing to look helpless, but wanting to be ready to move in a heartbeat. He put both feet in front of him, flat on the floor and moved his shackled hands from behind the chair's back. He didn't want to have to drag the chair with him when he moved.

Feeling ready, he nodded towards Charley, and saw the kid echo his moves. Hutch glanced once more at the guard, then at the kid. _This is for real Charley, we aren't playing power games here. _He took a deep breath and held the kid's eyes, willing him whatever strength he could spare. "Kill." He saw the agreement and determination in Charley's nod. _Sink or swim kid. _

Hutch nodded once, then sat back to let the kid do his job.

It started convincingly enough, as Charley moaned deep and pitifully. The guard turned a scowl towards the captives, but shrugged it off, going back to his surveillance.

At the second moan, Charley leaned forward, panting around the gag, acting as if he were really ill. He leaned forward a bit, not daring to take his eyes off the kid to watch the guard. "Hey, he's gonna be sick. You'd better get over here!" He called.

"Tough," the guard replied in a bored voice.

"He's gagged you idiot!" Hutch yelled back with a touch of panic in his voice. "He can't get sick with a gag on, he'll suffocate on it! So unless you wanna bet you won't need him anymore, you'd better get that gag off!"

He glared at the guard, and could see that the man was starting to reconsider the situation. Charley cooperated by making deep gagging noises and panting, looking as if he were going to collapse at any minute. He watched as the guard warred with himself as to his next move. _Come on, idiot, check the kid out. _He willed the man to move. _Think of what your boss will do if they need him later and you lost him. Think! _

Then just as the guard was about to move, Charley fell suddenly forward to his knees, convulsing as if in the throws of vomiting, making gagging, wet sounds of suffocation.

Despite himself, he twisted back to the kid in surprise. _Damn! He's good! _was Hutch's fleeting thought before he heard the guard toss the rifle onto the table and race over to the captives. He held himself still, not daring to watch the guard in any way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and in what seemed to be slow motion, he shifted backwards, grabbing the chair back with stiff hands for stability. He brought his legs up to catch those of the charging guard, scissoring the man at knee level. He shifted his whole body, using his strength and weight to play against the man in motion, feeling the chair overturn as the man threw an arm up to break his fall.

They both hit the ground with a thud and grunt, but Hutch was more prepared and recovered almost instantly. He twisted, rolling his body forward to cover the guard who had landed face down, wanting to keep the man from recovering long enough to use his hands or knees to push himself up. In the corner of his eye he vaguely registered that Charley had somehow gotten to his feet and was standing off to the side of the two on the floor.

Hutch untangled a leg and was able to get one knee in the small of the man's back before he could feel the body shift. The man got an arm underneath him, preparing to push or twist to dislodge the detective. He braced himself, knowing that his weight might not be enough to keep the man down, and cursing his lack of hands. But Charley wasn't through, and his movement startled the detective who had written him off. The guard had started to yell, lifting his head off the dirty wooden floor when Charley's thick hiking boot slammed the man's head back down to the floor with a sickening 'snick' sound.

Charley stood there wide-eyed, tense and shaking with one foot still in the air, ready to stomp his captor again at a twitch.

But Hutch knew it wouldn't be needed, feeling the twitches and jerks of the body beneath him as the man was slammed into sudden unconsciousness or death. The total relaxation of the body signaled that this man was down, and he listened to the labored breathing. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear a death rattle, as hard as Charley had stomped. Either way, it was time to move.

"Good job, Charley." He raised himself, panting at the effort of the past minute and the inconvenience of having no hands to help. "But we've got to get out of here. Turn around and let me at your hands."

Charley seemed unable to respond for a moment, still shaking at the shock of the fight. Hutch limped over and turned his back to the kid, feeling the rough twine with sore fingers. He couldn't see the knot, but it wasn't long before he had it undone. Charley tore at the gag and gasped in lungful of air.

"Charley, get the rifle off the table," Hutch ordered. He sat down on the floor and drew his legs up to his chest. "See if he's got the cuff key, I need my hands."

The kid raced over to the table and grabbed the rifle, returning quickly to the man unconscious on the floor. He hesitated for a moment, as if reluctant to touch him.

"Dammit Charles, I need the key," he said angrily. "Search him."

As if making an instant decision, Charley placed the rifle out of the guard's reach and proceeded to search the man's pockets, deftly rolling him over to make sure he had them all covered. He pulled everything out of each one, and checked each empty pocket. "There's no handcuff key, no car key, just normal junk, sir."

"Hutch," the detective replied automatically. "Call me Hutch." Drawing his knees closer to his chest, he curved his spine as much as he could, drawing himself into as small a ball as possible. _What I wouldn't give to shave off a few inches of height right now_, he thought with frustration. He had never been able to do this, but it was going to **have** to happen. "Listen closely, Charley. I need my hands in front of me. But I'm too tall to do this by myself. I'm going to bring my hands under me and try to bring them forward. I don't care if you have to dislocate a shoulder, just don't let me get stuck."

Charley nodded and stepped back. Hutch exhaled as much as he could and compacted himself even more. As he brought his sore hands down and underneath he forced himself not to grab the middle of the handcuffs to keep them from tearing at his wrists. He angled himself farther forward so he wouldn't be sitting on them, trying to remember the smug look Starsky had worn when they had practised this at the academy. No matter how hard He had stretched and pulled, he had never been able to overcome his own body length to pull the trick off. Starsky had been delighted to see that his friend's extra inches had counted against him in such an odd way, and had teased him about it. That is, until they hit the streets. Then it wasn't funny anymore.

_ I'm going to do it this time, Starsk, just you wait and see. I've got more riding on this time than some stupid academy trick. _But it was too close. He was able to clear his rump, but couldn't make the extra space he needed to bring his arms forward. "Charley!" he gasped.

The kid was there in an instant, grabbing at the cuffs with one hand and bracing his other on Hutch's ankles. In a powerful pull that made He gasp with pain at wrists, elbows and shoulders, Charley allowed him to clear the last few inches. It was with sweet relief that he brought both hands to his chest, ignoring the now bleeding wrists. "Let's go kid. But tie him up first. We need all the time we can get."

Struggling to stand, Hutch watched as Charley deftly reused the twine to tie the guard the same way he had been tied, even using the gag he had thrown to the floor. He reached for the rife, checking it out and cursing when he saw that both chambers were full, but that there were no extra shells anywhere_. They didn't trust him enough to give him extra ammo? _He was frustrated at the low firepower. _Or were they planning on taking him out too and didn't want him heavily armed? _

Whatever the reason, he decided to be grateful for what he had. Charley was just finishing up and Hutch handed the him the rifle. "You ride shotgun kid, but be careful, we've only got two shots. I'll sneak out to the driver's side of the station wagon and hot wire the car. When you hear it start, you dive on into the passenger seat. I don't know where the other guard is posted, so watch your head."

Hutch opened the cabin door carefully, hovering towards the bottom and out of eye-height. The moon was nearly full, but the trees were so dense that it was almost pitch black. He listened carefully, and only heard the soothing sound of crickets.

_ No time like the present_, he decided ruefully. He squeezed out of the door and moved low towards the nearest dark growth. When no warning was called and no shot rang out he moved quietly to the driver's side door. He slowly pulled at the latch, thankful it wasn't locked. He winced as the dome light came on, but pulled himself onto the seat, keeping his head below window level. After quickly pulling himself almost completely in, he pulled the door shut, but didn't close it, fearing the sound of the door latching would echo in the darkness.

One by one, he reached in and carefully felt for the wires he needed, only slightly hampered by having to use both hands. _If only Father could see me now_, he thought with a snicker. _All that money for a premium education, and his son pays the most attention to his class in Hot-Wiring 101. Wish Starsky had taught me this a lot earlier, like when I wanted to borrow the sports car for prom night and Father said no. The old man would've had a heart attack to see it missing. _He finally found what he wanted and pulled down the right wires, twisting the ends to make better contact. _Not that I would have had the guts, but it sure would have been tempting! Ruth would've been worth it. _

Almost ready, he reached both hands up to pull the latch on the passenger side door to make sure it was unlocked and ready. Sitting up quickly, he glanced once more at his surroundings, knowing that he would be temporarily blinded if he used the headlights. He placed himself in position and brought the wires together, praying it would start the first time.

The sudden sound of the engine trying to catch brought Charley out from the shadows and into the car in a split second. He lost the spark and cursed, retrying the connection. After a few more seconds the engine caught and he threw it into drive. He was careful not to hit the gas as his body screamed to do, not wanting to dig the heavy car into the soft ground.

He had hoped he wouldn't have to use the headlights, but it was too dark and the trees too thick to chance on running into something and losing their advantage. He flicked on the headlights and cringed, almost ducking as he expected a shot in the back from the second guard. He had no idea which way to go, but bet that they hadn't bothered to turn the car around from the trip in. He pulled a tight U-turn, almost without enough room, and floored the car as much as he dared.

The rattling and shaking of the station wagon on the little used trail almost shook Hutch's blood slicked hands off the steering wheel a couple of times, and he prayed they didn't scrape anything off of the bottom. But if the guard was anywhere down the road, they needed all the speed and surprise they could get.

"Charley, keep down, that guard can't be too far away!" he shouted to his passenger.

And almost on cue, a blast rang out. He could feel the concussion as one headlight was suddenly gone. They both ducked, and he gunned the motor, trying to keep his head down while watching the almost invisible trail at the same time. A second shot rang out, and he heard the spray of glass from behind him before he felt it. _Back passenger window, driver's side. We've almost passed him. _

He fought for control of the car as a third shot almost deafened him. Charley had turned to fire out of the blown-out window. "You only have one more," he warned. "Make it count, kid, 'cause I'm sure this guy can re-load."

There was a sudden turn in the road and he twisted the wheel hard, almost missing it. Charley was thrown into him, and he almost lost control as he heard another shot and the back of the car lurch with a loud bang. _Damn! A rear tire! He's after the gas tank now. _

"Make him back off!" Hutch yelled twisting the car under control and willing it to move forward. He'd run all the way to the highway with a flat if he had to.

Another loud explosion sounded, but he was prepared for it.

"I think I got him!" Charley exclaimed. "I aimed at the flash from his last shot. I think he's still back a ways."

Hutch didn't even see whatever it was they ran over, whether it was a ditch or a log he couldn't tell, but the station wagon bucked and twisted and he finally lost control. He braked but they slid sideways, landing with a solid crunch as the car swerved into a tree. He felt the jolt all through his body, but he grabbed Charley and jerked at him. "Let's go, we've gotta move! Leave the rifle, it'll slow us down."

In a moment they were out of the car, one lone headlight shone a faint light down the endless trail. Charley tossed the rifle into the surrounding darkness and took a step down the trail when Hutch, hissed at him. "No, in the woods!"

They had both gotten a few seconds ahead when another shot rang out and what was left of the station wagon exploded, lighting the nearby area with the resulting fire and debris. They were both almost toppled, feeling the blast and heat on their backs. He grabbed Charley and pulled him down and behind an outcropping of rocks, shielding them from the flickering light.

"Don't look at it, or you won't be able to see in the dark," he hissed in the younger man's ear. "And we've got to stay low. He can use the light to spot us."

"Can't we just run?" Charley hissed back. He could feel the boy trembling.

"Charley, listen to me." Hutch spoke quickly, keeping his voice calm. "We don't have much cover here, but if we run now the guard would be able to spot us in the fire-light." He glanced down and compared his white t-shirt and tan shorts, with Charley's dark shirt, jeans and shoes. "I'm going to be easy to spot, even now, and I'm not sure how far I can run barefoot. We need to wait quietly and if we're lucky, he'll start searching in another direction. If not, then you stay put, and I'll draw him after me."

"No!" Charley growled. "You can't get far!"

"No, **I** can't, but **you** can." Hutch gripped Charley's arm tightly, forestalling any reply. "This is my **job**, Charley. If I **do** go down, all I want is for you to stay free long enough to get to safety and to show my partner where to find me." He smiled grimly. "And bring Laura and her father to trial, kid."

Charley gazed at him seriously for a minute, before nodding. Hutch returned to his surveillance, hoping to see the guard before he got too close.

_ All we need now is just a little luck, _he thought grimly. _And I'd say I was due a little bit of the __**good**__ kind about now. _

_AAAAA_

It seemed like they had been traveling for hours, and Starsky almost felt surprised that the sun wasn't yet up. He was leaning up against a large tree, watching the almost full moon try to light up the endless night sky.

_ Hutch would love this, _Starsky thought fondly. _He's always saying the cities ruin the sky, during the day __**and**__ the night. And he's right. One of these days I'm going to let him teach me all about the constellations and tell me the stories he's always threatening me with. _The thought was comforting, but didn't stop the wave of weariness that beat through him like an endless drum.

He, Jerome and Augustine had taken Jerome's jeep for the search. They had stopped several times so far, with him trying to find a direction to travel. But they had had to backtrack when they had found that a trip had taken them too far, or they had to stop and search the map when there were no roads to take them to the right area.

Now Starsky was almost too tired to continue. There had been too little sleep in the past few days, and he was running on pure adrenaline. Only a rogue candy bar had been found to replace his lost energy. At their last stop, he had barely been able to imagine his friend's presence anymore, almost too tired to suspend his disbelief in what he was trying to do.

They had made one last stop on the side of a dark road, miles away from the last little town they had passed. Starsky saw Jerome standing by the four-wheel drive, catching a glimpse of the man's face from the glow at the end of his cigarette. Augustine was a darker shape, still seated on the edge of the passenger seat, waiting on the two men to continue.

_ Better get started, before I crash entirely_,he thought with a sigh. _This isn't going to get any easier. _"I guess I'm ready," he announced. "But I'd rather finish the climb to the top of this hill."

The drive to the top of the hill went quickly and Starsky got out to view the valley and hills that surrounded them. Hutch was out there somewhere, and he was going to find him. They started out the same as all the other times, with Starsky listening to Augustine as she talked him into reaching out for his partner's presence. This time he could only catch a glimpse of his friend, and Starsky held on to it firmly, afraid to let the feeling 'drift off ' until he had a better grip on it. He was concentrating, opening himself to it totally when...

Starsky suddenly jerked as if pushed violently, even before he could know why. At the same second he heard a distant rumble that echoed the jolt he had received.

"He's there!" he almost yelled, twisting to his left and pointing at a dim but visible glow in the valley below them. He rushed to enter the jeep, almost dragging a harried Augustine in with him. He bit his lip with impatience as Jerome started the jeep up quickly and made a dizzying U-turn to speed down the mountain side.

_ He's there! He's there! _He wanted to chant over and over again, being more certain of that than of anything else in a long time.

Augustine gasped as Jerome made a savage left turn into the paved road. Starsky was glad it was still night, and there had been no cars in their way to slow them down. He tried to judge how far they would need to go before finding a road to take them to the blast location.

Jerome slowed down just before Starsky would have ordered him to. He could smell the burnt oil and rubber drifting in the darkness and just barely caught sight of the smoke plume in the moonlight. "Jerome, this is it. Whatever happened in there will require the local police and firefighters." He watched as Jerome switched the C.B radio to the emergency channel. "Better have them send an ambulance too," he added gruffly.

Starsky didn't even listen in to the call, keeping his eyes on the blackness of the undergrowth. Suddenly he saw a gap, then another... "It's a trail!" he announced.

Jerome pulled the jeep over and in the headlights there appeared two bare spots in an open area of undergrowth, wide enough to be tire tracks and overgrown enough to be ancient. Starsky knew it was the right one.

"Hang on you two, we're going in," Jerome announced. He pulled the jeep off of the road and into the gap in the brush, not slowing for the bumps and the rocks that littered the ground and the trail area. After a few minutes of roller coaster driving, Starsky could see a definite glow in the trees ahead of them. The closer they got the better he could define a large and growing fire. At the appearance of a sudden turn ahead of them he grabbed Jerome's arm.

"Stop it here!" he ordered. "Jerome, what kind of firepower do you have? I need whatever you've got."

"There's a pistol in a box under the passenger seat," Jerome replied dimming the headlights and pulling the jeep over to the side of the trail. "Box of ammo under my seat."

They all piled out as quietly as they could, and Starsky dug the pistol out from under the seat, glad for the glint and smell of a well cared for gun. Jerome tossed him a box of ammo and he quickly filled the chambers and loaded another handful in a pocket.

"You two stay here." He held up a hand when Jerome started to protest. "I don't know how many of them are out there, or what's going on, but I need to make sure that you two are here to bring the reinforcements up to speed."

"Take care," Augustine patted his arm, her eyes full of worry.

Starsky nodded his thanks to both of them and headed off down the trail. It would have been hard to follow on a darker night, but with the distant fire and the full moon, he could make it out well enough. He came up to the turn and instead of following it around went off to the side, not wanting to show himself in the flicker of the firelight.

He moved quickly, using the available light to spot low-level obstacles, barely able to keep himself from tripping or running into something he would have to thrash his way out of. Still yards away from the now identifiable remains of the distant automobile he froze. Something was moving ahead of him, and it had stopped when he did.

Starsky cocked the pistol and went into a crouch, aiming the gun at the shadow ahead of him. He held the stance with brute force, stilling the tremor of tired muscles and excitement. After a minute the shadow moved again, heading towards him and keeping low to the ground.

He concentrated on the moving form, willing himself to see it better in the darkness. He couldn't tell for sure, but as the form grew closer it grew clearer.

"Charley?" Starsky hissed, watching the figure startle and freeze in place. "Lopez?"

"Damn! Where are you?" Charley's trembling voice flowed towards him in the darkness. "You're Hutch's partner? From the convention?"

"Yeah." Starsky dropped his stance and made his way quickly to the kid's side, pulling him around behind a tree to shield them. He glanced at the younger man's swollen and bloodied face. "Are you okay? Where's Laura? Where's Hutch? How many are there?"

"It's just me and Hutch. Just one guard left and he's after him!" Charley answered in growing panic, gripping at Starsky in fear. "Hutch took off **that** way to draw the guard, but he won't make it!"

Both men jumped as a shot rang out in the darkness, the sound rolling and rolling in the thick woods. Starsky felt a savage twist in his gut, but he moved on instinct, grabbing Charley and shoving him towards Jerome's jeep. "That way Charley, your friends are there," he growled gruffly, moving at the same time towards the sound of the shot.

Starsky moved through the woods as if possessed, open to any sound or movement that would alert him to the guard or his partner. But it was too quiet, only the distant crackle of fire and his own footsteps reaching him.

_ Where? Where, where, where, where? _Starsky chanted unconsciously. Wanting, **needing,** a sound to tell him how to move. It was then that Starsky saw it on the ground, pale skin reflecting the firelight. The body was motionless, hidden behind some brush. Starsky held his breath as he cautiously circled the obstruction. Flat on the ground, the large male didn't even flinch at his approach.

_ The guard. But where's Hutch? _He kicked the rifle away from the body looking frantically around for his partner, remembering with fear the sound of that single shot.

"Starsk?" a voice croaked hoarsely.

He halted at the sound of his friend's disembodied voice, unable to pinpoint his location. "Hutch?"

"Here. Up here," Hutch replied, weariness in his voice.

Starsky turned sharply and let his gaze follow the trunk of a large tree, spotting a glob of white in its higher branches. "Are you okay? I heard a shot...?"

"I'm fine," Hutch's voice drifted down slowly from the branches. "The rifle went off when I beaned the guy. Where the hell have you been anyway?"

"Hey, I **am** on vacation, you know." Starsky switched on the pistol's safety and stuck it into the back of his jeans. "Why don't you come on down, huh? Let me get a good look at you while I tie this guy up." He undid a shoe and pulled out the shoestring, going over to tie the unconscious man's hands behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to see his partner in the dim light, but the details needed to be taken care of. No use letting this guy wake up suddenly and get the drop on them.

Starsky could hear the sirens of a fire engine and law enforcement echoing in the distance, making their way to the remote location. But Hutch didn't answer and he felt the worry rise again. "Hutch? What's wrong?" he asked with concern, checking his prisoner one last time. "You wouldn't lie to me about being okay, would you? Come on down and keep me company."

"I don't think I can," Hutch replied softly, sounding to Starsky like he was in some pain. He almost lisped, as if he had trouble speaking. "I got up here kinda fast, but I'm handcuffed and scraped my hands up pretty good. I'm not sure I've got enough grip left to keep from falling."

"Hang on pal, I'm on my way up." Starsky felt his eyes widen at the thought of reaching those upper branches with handcuffs on. _Hutch must have flown, 'cause there just ain't no way... _He shook his head in amazement.

It took Starsky two running starts at the tree, almost walking part-way up the side before he could reach the lowest branch. He pulled himself carefully up one branch at a time, unsure of how good a hold Hutch still had, not wanting to joggle him. He could see Hutch watching him from the upper branches, but his partner made no comments. _That's not like him_,he thought worriedly. _He's hurt worse than he wants to let on. _

He finished the upward climb, and paused to take a good look at his partner. Hutch looked like a version of hell. He was ruffled and dirty, hair sticking up in one place and matted down in another. It was hard to see details in the dark but Starsky could see the split lip he had heard earlier, along with a face that looked bloody and scrapped. He was holding the base of his branch with both hands, leaning his whole torso and head against the main trunk, obviously at the end of his strength and afraid of falling.

"Hold on a bit longer, babe. I'm almost there."

Starsky carefully angled to Hutch's side, hanging on to upper branches as he stood and placed a careful foot behind his partner. He shifted his weight to the foot swiftly but smoothly, and slowly lowered himself to straddle the branch behind his motionless friend. Slowly he scooted up behind his partner until he was as close as possible. He could feel the tense and trembling muscles in Hutch's back as the man hung on with what little strength he had. Starsky grabbed on to a nearby branch in a death-grip with his left hand, and enfolded his right arm around Hutch, pulling him close.

"Okay. You can relax now," he said confidently. "I've got you."

Hutch let go one muscle at a time. Starsky encouraged him to lean back and away from the tree, taking his weight off of his shackled hands. When Hutch had leaned back enough, Starsky reached down, bringing Hutch's wrists up for careful inspection. They looked raw and puffy, but Starsky didn't think he would bleed to death.

"I don't think I can make it down this way, Starsk," Hutch said quietly, leaning back with relief, resting the back of his head on a nearby shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare handcuff key, would you?"

"Sorry, I kinda left in a hurry this morning and forgot it. But that's okay. Hear the fire truck? If you're a good boy, maybe we can get them to bring a ladder over here."

They were both silent for a moment, listening to the clash and commotion of a fire crew getting down to business, along with the various sounds and sirens of law enforcement and ambulance crew.

"Don't you need to...?"

"Nope. Jerome and Augustine are with Charley by now. It won't take them long to fill everyone in and let them know we're out here. Let's just take a breather, okay?" Starsky gave his partner a quick, one armed hug, willing him to just relax. "Is it me, or is it getting brighter out here?"

"Dawn," Hutch answered simply, making no effort to move. "You know, if someone had told me I'd spend my vacation watching the sun come up, being held upright by my partner in the upper branches of a large tree, in **his** dirty clothes and handcuffed, I would have bet a million dollars they were dead wrong and crazy."

Starsky felt the snicker creep up and let it develop into a laugh, hearing the tired echo of it from his partner. "Well," he began when the laughter had died a bit, "remind me not to let you bet my money for me. You always **do **tend to bet against a sure thing."

There was some movement below them, and Starsky could make out a Sheriff's uniform as the stranger moved into examine the bound man. "Hey! We're up here!" he yelled.

The uniform stood and walked to the base of the tree. "Detective Hutchinson? Detective Starsky?"

"Yep, that's us. The man down there is a kidnapper, captured by my partner here. You guys in contact with Sheriff McKracken and Captain Harold Dobey? They need to know this."

"Sure, but this guy's still out," the voice replied. "What's wrong with him? The paramedics will want to know."

"Beaned him with a rock," Hutch whispered, sounding as if his voice was going.

"He got hit in the head with a rock," he repeated in a yell.

"And there's a guy at a cabin, up the trail. He was stomped unconscious."

"There's a guy in a cabin up the trail. He was, uh, stomped unconscious," he yelled uncertainly. "But my partner's hurt too, we need a ladder and a handcuff key. He can't make it down this way."

"Will do, detective," the voice replied, beginning the call for reinforcements.

Starsky heard the commotion, but found it hard to see through the leaves and brightening sky. He assumed the fire was nearly out. "Hutch, how did you bean the guy with a rock? And if he was down, why climb the tree?"

"I **got** him from up here," was the croaked reply. "I had enough head start on him that he didn't know I'd gotten up the tree. I pitched the rock from here, and he set off the rifle when he fell."

"Wait, wait." He didn't quite understand. "Rocks don't grow on trees, Hutch. And you're handcuffed. How did you climb up **this** tree with handcuffs and a rock?"

Hutch snorted softly, as if the answer should be obvious. "I stuffed the rock in my shorts and carried it up that way. By the way, next time you buy shorts, get some with pockets would ya?"

Starsky shook his head, feeling the grin threaten to split his face. "You know, I never even got to wear that pair. Remind me not to loan you any of my clothes anymore. You're too hard on them." He heard more commotion at the base of the tree and saw that a ladder was being brought in.

"You should've spent more money on them, Starsky," Hutch chuckled, moving just enough to watch the fire department start to position the ladder. "They don't fit very well."

"Great, steal my clothes, then complain about the fit!" He did his best to sound incredulous. "Some friend you are! You know, the least you can do to make up for ruining a fine pair of shorts is to volunteer to do-"

"The laundry," they chorused in unison, both breaking out into laughter.

AAAAA

Harold C. Dobey drove slowly and carefully along the busy highway, thoroughly enjoying the gorgeous mountain scenery and wonderfully fresh spring air. It was a shame, really, that the spring and summer months were so crowded with vacationers, but he really couldn't complain since he was one of them himself. And it wasn't as if he were in any hurry. Edith and McKracken knew where he was and what he was doing, so why rush? He had all the time in the world to take the scenic route back to Peakness and the Sheriff's office.

He should, of course, be dead on his feet by now, but actually felt strangely invigorated. Sitting around and accepting scraps all night from the Sheriff's Department when it came to his missing detective had been pure mental torture, but not physically demanding. The surprise call at dawn had been like a shot of pure adrenaline.

He had been tired, and depressed, wondering if he should have let Starsky off on his own the way he had. One part of him had wanted to give the man a chance to pull off a miracle, another didn't want him around when Hutch's body was found. He himself had not held out much hope that a cop who stumbled into a million dollar ransom set-up would be of any value alive. Then came the call.

Starsky had been patched through from an ambulance, requesting a person-to-person with him specifically. The detective's quick report on finding Hutch and the facts surrounding the real story had allowed Dobey to inform McKracken privately. He, in turn, picked up the calls from the Sheriff's office sixty miles away.

In closed meetings that didn't include Andrew Tarran, a new line of attack was planned. Even now, steps were being taken to let the ransom continue, not letting the fact that Charles Lopez had been rescued leak out. When Laura was found 'safe and sound' after being dropped off by her 'kidnappers', she was going to be in for a bit of a shock, as was her father. Dobey chuckled deeply at the thought, almost wishing he would be there to see it. But all in all, he was much happier where he was, out of the action and driving his pickup around the beautiful, sun-lit mountains with a front seat full of sleeping detectives.

After Starsky's call, Dobey had been able to get a ride to his truck, make a clothing stop at the detective's borrowed cabin and take the sixty-some mile trip to a small town on the edge of nowhere. There he had found the small clinic and his men. After identifying himself, he had been allowed to proceed to the long hall and the row of beds that held a few of the local sick and two strangers. Dobey hadn't realized that he was subconsciously holding his breath until he walked in that room to see the two of them together.

_ Another miracle made to order, _Dobey had thought gratefully. _Only which one do I attribute it to this time, the searcher or the escapee? Or does it really make any difference? _He was pretty certain that when it came right down to the nitty-gritty, it would always be too close to call.

Hutch had looked like a mess. He had been showered and shaved and was sitting in disposable greens on the edge of a hospital bed. Both wrists were heavily bandaged. His lip had been split and his face, scraped raw on nose and cheek, glistened with salve. The blond sat stiffly, talking to a Sheriff's Deputy, looking a bit shocked and pale, but nothing that a good rest wouldn't cure as far as Dobey could see.

Starsky was sitting next to his partner, listening in to his statement to the deputy. The detective looked tired, but well. He was sipping on a hot cup of liquid, passing it over to his partner whenever he paused in his recitation, only to have it returned after a taste. Starsky saw Dobey first and passed the cup to Hutch, getting up from his perch with a quick word. Hutch look up and saw Dobey then. He grinned shyly and nodded, then went back to making his statement.

Dobey stood back from the group, letting Starsky join him in a more private corner of the large ward. "I see you've earned your pay for this week, Detective. How is he doing?"

"He's fine, Cap'n. He just needs some rest." Starsky rubbed at his eyes, obviously bone tire. "He's been X-rayed and nothing's broken, but he's got some nasty bruises. His wrists were pretty badly lacerated, but no tendon damage. And he's got a split lip, some loose teeth, and the facial stuff will heal with no scaring. How's the ransom stuff going?"

He shrugged unconcernedly. "We were able to keep the rescue from Andrew Tarran and his men. As far as they know, everything is still running along fine. The Sheriff has some men waiting at the cabin to pick up 'Tom' when he arrives to 'clean it up'. When Laura is dropped off after her ransom, she and her father will be taken in and the Sheriff's men will clean up their crew later."

"So, what do we do now?" Starsky asked, blinking bloodshot eyes.

"We get Hutch out of here, get something to eat down the street. Then we take the scenic route back to Peakness," he answered with satisfaction. "They won't need you two until the case comes to trial, and even then Charles Lopez can testify to more than Hutch can. Charles is going to fly back to San Francisco to be reunited with his father. Our job is to stay hidden until after the drop-off, and I'd rather do that on the move."

Starsky gave him a happy smile. "Sounds great. But I hope you don't expect sharp company on the trip home, Cap'n."

"Starsky," he grunted, throwing an 'I know you too well' look at his detective. "I never expected otherwise."

Hutch finished his report, changed into the clean clothes Dobey provided and they all had a quick and simple meal down the street. The first half hour of the trip back had passed quietly, with Hutch nodding off between them almost as soon as he got settled. Starsky had arranged himself in the opposite corner of the truck cab so that Hutch could use him as a back rest. The blond lay slumped over bonelessly, almost obscuring his smaller partner. Starsky hadn't said a word, just arranged his partner so that they would both be upright and fairly comfortable, then drifted off himself, leaving Dobey to the driving.

_ Edith and I still have three full vacation days left. I wonder if she would like to meander back to the city instead of staying in the camp for the rest of our reservation? _he wondered idly. _That way we could get back at our own pace, and I wouldn't be around for the Sheriff's department to call in at a moment's notice for unnecessary paperwork. Everyone should be in custody tonight, and these two won't need a guard. _

He glanced at the boneless pile of detectives next to him. They both had been dead to the world for a couple of hours now and had at least another hour to sleep until arriving at Peakness. There, he would make sure that questions were asked and answered once, that statements were taken as quickly as possible and the two men released to go back to their cabin. Those two still had vacation time to attend to, and he intended to see them get back to it before he had to leave.

He sighed and stretched behind the wheel, taking in a lungful of clean mountain air, and turned his attention back to the drive, catching a spectacular glimpse of majestic mountain ranges through the trees_._

_ It'll be a shame to leave all this, but Edith and I can drive back through the National Park. Maybe share our last few days with something safer, _he glanced again at the two in the corner, shaking his head in fond amusement, _like maybe a mountain lion, or a bear... _

Epilogue Ken Hutchinson wiped his brow on his sleeve and scratched his head, replacing the fishing cap so it covered his eyes better in the mid-day sun. He moved smoothly, casting his line only half-heartedly away from the shore. They already had a nice mess of fish for dinner, he wasn't worried about getting any more, but the motions and surroundings were soothing. His only worries at the moment were keeping the sun off his face until it healed, not overtaxing his unbandaged wrists and one taciturn partner.

They were finally back on the vacation track, everything serious either on hold or completed. Laura and Andrew Tarran were in jail for setting up the kidnapping plot along with a handful of cronies, Charley was back with his father, the Dobeys had left for home, and he and Starsky had tickets for a bus ride home from Peakness in a couple of days. The only thing left on Hutch's mind now was the fact that his partner was closing him off to a big part of the story.

_ There's something important he isn't telling me_,he pondered, disliking the idea immensely_. "We just happened to be searching in that area" might make sense to the Sheriff's Department, but I know him better than that. Starsky doesn't go anywhere or do anything without a purpose. If he found me, it wasn't by accident_.But for some reason Starsky would throw up a wall when he asked or hinted at his confusion.

_ He's hiding something, and it has to do with the ESP group. He was traveling around with Jerome and Augustine and they left before I could ask them. Even Tina and Gina skirt the issue, changing the subject just like Starsky does. Maybe he just doesn't want to admit that he talked Jerome and Augustine into finding me, that he was forced to put his trust into something he doesn't actually believe in_.He sighed, disliking the whole thing, but being at a loss to fight it._ I guess if he's that embarrassed about it, then I need to just let it drop. He's been awful forgiving of me, and I owe him more than one on that score. _

So he was letting it go for now, intending to enjoy the remaining days in full force. The best part was that Starsky's arm was pretty much back to normal, as was his own foot. So far, the two of them had hiked a little, canoed some, and fished a lot during the day. The cooler evenings were spent cooking outdoor meals at the cabin's grill, accompanied by the charming Calbert sisters.

He glanced over at his napping companion. Starsky had managed to find a natural rock outcropping that let him sprawl as if in a lounge chair. For the last hour or so he had been doing just that, reclining lazily with hat over eyes, fishing pole propped up and letting out an open-mouthed, blackboard-scratching snore.

_ There go the fish_,he though with mild irritation, taking a sip out of his water bottle. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was **really **irritated at the fact that Starsky had caught three-fourths of the day's catch. Just as he had yesterday **and** the day before. The fact that Starsky's catch averaged half again the size of his didn't help either_. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have to brag about it to the girls all evening. His fish stories are getting really unbelievable. And they're just going to get worse, _he grinned wickedly, glad his partner couldn't see his face_. By the time we get back, __**none**__ of his stories will be believable. _

It had taken some help, but he had everything set up and ready to go. The girls had finally been able to introduce them to their brother Robert at an outdoor lunch at their uncle's place. Robert was a nice kid who enjoyed a good joke, and after some covert negotiation had taken Hutch's money and made a special trip into town for him. He had been lucky that Robert had known just where to go to get the item and was willing to do it. Robert had delivered it yesterday evening on the excuse of dropping by to talk to his sisters. Hutch had carefully packed his purchase for today and it was even now in his fishing gear.

The first part of this morning, while they were getting dressed for another day of fishing, Hutch had set up the situation. He had regaled Starsky with a local myth that this lake was actually connected to the sea by deep underground tunnels, and that it was believed that once in a hundred years or so, some marine life would make it all the way to the lake. But no marine life had been pulled out in years. If anyone ever **did **catch any ocean animal out here, they'd probably make the local papers at the least, maybe even be featured in the National Geographic.

And now that time was at hand. Moving with every bit of skill he possessed, he slipped silently over to Starsky. Carefully, he pulled in Starsky's fishing line, keeping an eye and ear on him. _Can't wake him now, or I'll have to start all over again, _Hutch thought evilly. He pulled up the line to the retrieve the hook, discarding the bait.

With his back turned to conceal his actions, Hutch carefully slit open the plastic packet, pulling out the Japanese delicacy. It was a fully complete, fully cooked and packed-in-oil squid, one of the medium varieties used in the more authentic dishes and sold in many good Japanese groceries. While the oil kept the seafood intact, he knew the squid would disintegrate into tiny bits within a minute or so of being removed from the fresh water lake. _Can't leave him any evidence, now can we? Then someone might start believing all those fish stories of his. _

He hooked the squid securely and smoothly tossed the item back into the water, relieved to see that his friend was still napping. He then moved quickly, but silently, into the woods, finding quick cover behind a bush.

"Starsk? Hey, Starsky! Want to go back for lunch now?" he yelled loudly.

"Huh? Yeah. Uhmm. Where are you?" Starsky asked sleepily.

"Indisposed," he answered back. "I'm about ready. Reel yourself in and we can go eat."

He held his breath_. One. Two. Three... _

"Hutch! Hutch come here **quick**, you gotta see this! Hurry! Where's a bucket? Didn't we bring a bucket? Or a camera? Damn! Huutch!"

_ Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six... _

"Come on! Huuutch!"

_ Thirty-five. Thirty-Six. Thirty-Seven _"Huuutch? Where **are** you? Ouch! Yuck!"

_ Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty nine... _

"Ah man! Damn! I **can't** believe this!"

_ Fifty-nine. Sixty. _"Starsk? Starsky are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. **Fine**. Just **fine**. I gotta be **cursed** or somethin'. Hutch, you are never, **ever **going to believe what I had on my line just a minute ago."

_You'd be surprised at what I'd believe, buddy, _he thought with a smug grin_. Miracles happen all the time, don't they? _

_ The End_


End file.
